Beyond Twilight
by Archangel Kaiser Scott
Summary: IV. The ultimate allegory. How will the Squirrel Scouts deal with a new Scout Mistress, a genocidal reverend, and an invisible murderer? Rated M for strong violence and gore, strong language, and sexual situations between humans and furres.
1. Roine Trewavas

**Disclaimer: **Lazlo, Edward Platypus, Jane Doe, Rubella Mucus, Patsy Smiles, Nina Neckerly, Gretchen Lake, Almondine Mosley, Amber, Honey Bear, Tootie Reingold, Susie Rothery, Margaret D'Virgillo, Commander Hoo Hah, Camp Kidney and Acorn Flats are the intellectual properties of Joe Murray. They are being used without permission in a manner that does not involve profit.

Roine Trewavas, Reverend Hector Galagos, Gethsen Pheles, Doctor Uriah Heep, Chief Zaire Kiss, Major Otto Wills, the Albtraum Feind and the plot of this crazy story are the intellectual properties of Octavarius Kaiser Scott. Do not use ANYTHING without my permission, because I DO care if my creations are used.

**Author's Note: **This story changed more than Steve's pen name did. Srsly. First it started out as... uhh... I think it was a Father Of The Pride fic? Then I lost interest in the whole thing and transformed it into a Tiny Toon Adventures... adventure. That went nowhere, because the screwy plot I had in mind was impossible to write about. So I got tired. Put it on hiatus...

After finding out about Camp Lazlo (and more specifically, the Squirrel Scouts), I created a new plot using bits and pieces of my previous plots, and it seems to have worked. For the moment being, at least.

Do enjoy the fourth installment of the Final Cut timeline. As bumpy as it may be...

_**It is not sound. It is not literature. It is not fate.**_

**IV. Beyond Twilight**

_Ferrarius Verbero Aestus Ferratilis  
For the the love of art and the making  
This is for love and for the making_

_Through the marshland  
And through the rain and mud  
I march to you  
My sleeping beauty  
I alone  
I cut myself on the moonlight beams  
Hordes of wolves follow behind me  
I alone  
I'm all alone  
My face brightens in the flash of the lightning_

**Chapter 1: Roine Trewavas**

Fair... elegant... foolish. The words that best described Acorn Flats' own Scout Mistress. But they no longer held any meaning, as Miss Doe laid there silently in a scene that was ever so still and ominous. The organs behind that flat, delicious stomach had been torn out and paraded throughout the fields; her limbs detached and gnawed on until they were unidentifiable scraps; and her skull left in pieces, gleaming like por**c**elain in the morning sun. The lovely green grass beneath her was tainted heavily with crimson marks and chunks of fur. Wretched subterranean life had long since risen from its lair, covering the body's entirety with a pulsating and ever-feeding cacoon. She was dead and gone.

Nina Neckerly, a prodigious giraffe of sixteen years, was the one who had first be**h**eld the grisly mess. And it was her dreadful scream in the morning that brought her fellow Scouts out to investigate. The ten stood encircled, each one bearing a puzzled, yet equally disgusted look. Some with weak stomachs 

regurgitated while they mourned; some dared not to look at all, and instead asked their kin to simply describe the scene. Whethe**r** they hid or prayed or weeped, none could deny that the rancid stench and shock was overwhelming.

_"But why did it have to be today?"_ many of them wondered aloud, for this particular day was significant to every Squirrel Scout. It was to be the th**i**rd ever Miss Fru Fru beauty pangent held in Acorn Flats -- and although very few enjoyed (and participated in) the pangent itself, the majority of Scouts looked forward to ruining the event, as a way to entertain themselves on this usually boring and undesirable day.

_"Who could have done it?"_ was another question that circulated throughout the gathering. Many speculated that Miss Doe could have been randomly selected by a psychotic murderer with cannibalistic tendencies, or that she was the victim of an abusive ex-lover who finally snapped after being haunted by their tragic schism. None could perceive the real truth behind this matter, of course, but they all knew that the culprit could still be hiding deep within the woods, and that the chance**s** of a succeeding murder were grave.

They continued to share their thoughts with one another until a very flummoxed Miss Mucus arrived on-scene. She pushed through a green **t**apir clinging onto a shuddering grey rabbit, her expression staying indifferent as she once again peered down at her superior's corpse. Mucus was a colossal and perpetually bitter warthog, who treated the girls like a systematic machine in some factory, yet kept them well-protected from the Bean Scouts residing across the lake (whom she despised greatly), and even served as an unintentional contradiction to Miss Doe's fem**i**nine influences. She snorted, gaining the encirclement's attention (and causing a good few to jump out of their skin) and then spoke, "Alright girls, ya better get back into yer cabins -- there's nothing more to see here." Mucus turned away from the body and began to waddle back to where she came. She stopped for a moment to add, "Come on now, I ain't gonna tell ya again..."

She went off again, quite **a**ware that the girls were following her. It was only when she reached her trailer that she acknowledged their presence with another snort. "Look girls," Mucus began, keeping her back turned to the prying lot, "I don't know anymore than you do. Miss Doe died somehow -- she's being chewed up by maggots and the like -- we're without a Scout Mistress..."

"Sorry Miss Mucus." quivered a pink-haired mongoose named Patsy Smiles, the incontrovertible ringleader of the Squirrel Scouts. "We just wanted to know about Miss Doe's replacement. I mean, if there's going to be one..."

"We'll know in a few days. I already sent out the missive to Commander Hoo Hah." Mucus replied. "Would've bee**n** quicker to use the cellular phone, but I ain't getting any signal. And the damn power's still out, so resorting to the other one is out of the question..."

Indeed, two days prior to this morbid event, an unusually fierce thunderstorm had consumed the skies and ravaged the area around Leaky Lake. Trees of various shapes and ages were either scorched by bolts of lightning, or ripped straight out of the earth by violent winds and spread out upon roads that were caked with fallen mud. Worst of all, the Lake's denizens were without any power at all, which seemed to i**s**olate them even further from outside connections. However obvious the causes of this blackout were, the reason for cellular devices being rendered inoperative was anything but.

Mucus swung open the trailer door, sighing. "Interpol's gonna be here any minute now. As your temporary **S**cout Mistress, I'm ordering ya'll to get inside. Stay away from the body, stay out of their way. Ya'll can watch them do their jobs from the safety of yer cabins. That's all."

So it was. Mucus climbed into her trailer and slammed the door with enough force to generate a resounding metallic clap, which lingered throug**h**out the camp for a short while before fading out. The Scouts knew that this was their cue to end this analytical behavior and return to their given shelters as ordered. Patsy, Nina and an alligator who went by the name of Gretchen made a mute retreat to 

their own cabin near the entrance of Acorn Flats. Even after they were inside, they stayed just as quiet as that lonely corpse -- but in their silence they found activities to help make the minutes feel less like hours. Nina, ever the bookworm, immersed herself in a codex of scientific history, while Gretchen found a few dolls from earlier years to dismember. But Patsy kept to gazing out from the hazy window, eagerly awaiting the coming of Interpol, and hoping that her many questions would be given conclusive answers.

It was not until the passing of an hour that Interpol had finally arrived. Workers from outlying towns had also come to purge the roads of the waste that blanketed them, and return power to those that were without. Not wanting to miss out on anything, Patsy's cabin mates rushed up to the window -- their main focus being on the four agents examining the corpse, rather than on those who were commiting themselves to repair and restor**a**tion. The girls eyed the Inspectors, whispering among themselves and becoming more dissonant as one of them rose up. That particular man approached Miss Mucus, who was standing near the Food Terrace, and engaged in what appeared to be a conversation with her.

This was most bizarre to Patsy, as his mouth wasn't moving at all. Of course, nothing about the man struck her as remotely norma**l** to begin with. He was clad in a feldgrau trench coat with awkward shoulder plates that projected outward, and black leather boots with similar projections sprouting from the tips. Obscuring his eyes were goggles, not unlike the ones worn by the Nazi Party's Schutzstaffel, and across both his throat and nape was a deep, horrible-looking scar. Certainly out of place when compared the other agents, who went for a more professional look with their dark spectacles and suits.

"Who is that guy?" the mongoose asked, turning to Nina.

"I'm assuming that's Doctor Uriah Heep." Nina said as her eyes darted back down to her pabulum. "He's in charge of developing **l**ethal and non-lethal instruments, and is technically second-in-command of the whole agency -- the first being Gethsen Pheles. Other than that, he's supposed to be really knowledgable with fauna..."

"So it could've been an animal that did this, right? That's why he was **b**rought here?"

The long-necked mammal tightened her jaw. "Perhaps. Or he might be here to oversee the investigation..."

The next question came from Gretchen this time, "What's with the neat goggles?"

Nina blinked at her friend's trivial question. "Well..." she began, "It's obvious he wants to stand out in some way, and what other way to do that than by wearing goggles with a red**u**ndantly flamboyant attire?" Nina closed her book and placed it onto her lap, blushing a bit. "If you ask me, I think it's kind of sexy."

"I'll say." Gretchen said, fiddling with her curled blonde hair. "I wanna touch that pointy beard of his..."

A look of bafflement canceled out the previous expression on Patsy's face, and she fought hard to contain her opposing opinions. As her cabin mates took their eyes from the window to focus more on their prosaic jabbering, Doctor Heep had tu**r**ned away from the plumpish warthog, and was gazing directly at Patsy. She gasped, but neither Gretchen or Nina seemed to have heard her. In fact, her friends, Miss Mucus, and the nauseating interior of their cabin had all evansced, and were replaced by some void-like world with no end or beginning. She fell backwards and screamed whe**n** Uriah suddenly descended from above, his blank, eyeless gaze piercing into her, violating her private thoughts and events that had been and would be. Disregarding her missing Squirrel Scout beret, Patsy picked herself up and scurried off into the eternal nothing, tears dampening her fuzzy cheeks as she ran.

Then the cacophonous sound of gunfire and shouting devoured the silent void, and blasting through it was a muffled, robotic-sounding voice. It began as cryptic gibberish, but became clearer as Patsy pressed on. _"Little... creature." _it said,_ "Do not run... from what cannot be... undone."_

Patsy's face collided with the cabin's pink walls, and that surreal world of emptiness and noise faded as abruptly as it came. She held her throbbing nose as it bled crimson all over her red orange vest, and soon her perplexed cabin mates were up on their feet and huddled around her.

"Oh, Patsy!" Nina wrapped an arm around her mongoose friend and softly pressed a tissue against her bloodied nose. "Are you okay?"

"Holy crap! What the hell was that for? !" Gretchen exclaimed before Patsy could even answer. "One minute you're freaking out over something, and the next you're heading straight for a wall!"

Nina shot the reptile a questionable look. "Let her speak, Gretchen..."

"Everything... disappeared..." Patsy panted, trying her best to be cohorent. "After... that... Uriah Heep guy... started staring at me. It's like he was... _looking_... into me. And... and I'm sure... he was telling me things!" At this point, her heavy breathing was accompanied by mournful sobs. "Things that... can't be undone... or something! I've... never been so terrified!"

Nina and Gretchen just stared at each other, unsure of what to say. So quietly, while comforting her with an embrace and words of assurance, they decided to speak nothing more of it, and relieve her of the possible humilation. Such things were beyond any of them, and as longtime friends they had no right to question or sway the sight her eyes had seen -- regardless of how preposterous it sounded.

All was tranquil a few moments later, and by that time, the three agents and their unorthodox leader had withdrawn from the area, taking along with them the remains of Miss Doe. With those who might've been vexed by their presence gone, the girls rushed out from their cabins to begin again with the questioning. They swarmed around their temporary Scout Mistress like crazed hornets, with each of them asking several things at once. Though her patience was diminishing, Mucus merely crossed her arms and tapped her foot as the caterwauling went on and on. When she decided to put an end to it, she did so with a monstrous yell, and the group around her fell silent at once.

"That's more like it." she growled, placing her hands onto her wide, flabby hips. "I know what yer wondering, and I'm afraid Doctor Heep wasn't able to provide a definite answer just yet." When she said this, many of the Scouts voiced their disappointment with groans. Mucus responded by shaking her head. "Just the way things go, girls. Not everything in the world can be easily explained. Hell, I ain't even sure if we'll get ourselves an explaination. Those guys looked about as perplexed as we did.

"Anywho, we're gonna be a bit more cautious 'round here. Everyone is to stay near me at _all_ times during _all_ activities. I mean it. If I find any of ya'll missing, I'm gonna stir up a shitstorm with yer parents, ya hear? Oh, and _no_ going out into the forest. God knows what could be lurking out there..." Mucus then stared at Patsy, who was still tending to her nose with a bloodied tissue. "Dare I ask what happened to ya?"

The cat-like anthropomorph hid the kleenex behind her back and tittered. "W-well... you see..."

"I accidentally sat down on her face!" Gretchen blurted out, flashing the warthog a dopey grin. "You know me, I'm a stupid alligator..."

Miss Mucus rolled her eyes. "For Christ sakes."

Two days rolled on by and the camp proceeded as usual, though the zestful activities the Squirrel Scouts had always looked forward to were dragged down by extra precautions. This resulted in a succession of drab and sludgy events with meandering periods of leisure in-between. Many times during those twenty-four hour replicas they wished for Miss Doe's death to be nothing more than a terrible dream; many times did reality remind them of how wicked it could be. To make matters worse, a dry heat had replaced the pleasant spring weather, further enhancing the boredom and making the lot of them miserable and very uncomfortable.

Just when the third day looked to be as grim and eventless as the others, the news of Commander Hoo Hah having found a new Scout Mistress swept the insipid atomsphere away and remedied the young furres' boredom. At last they had _some _reason to be excited. Believing that he would be reasonably punctual on such an important day, they forthwith abandoned their cabins and gathered round the washroom, gossiping about the only topics worth the gossip, and making theoretical guesses as to what the replacement's personality would be like.

"I hope she knows about Rock Buckskin." said a stout Great Horned Owl named Almondine. Though considered the most banal of the Squirrel Scouts, she was by far the most intellectual.

"And a lot about fashion!" giggled Amber, the grey rabbit.

"She'd better not be some bitchy hag." Gretchen mumbled while cracking her knuckles. "The last thing we need around here is a clone of my mom..."

Nina shook her head, knowing that this kind of comment from the mordant reptile was inevitable. "Now Gretchen, whoever or whatever she may be doesn't matter; we still need to _kindly_ welcome her." The giraffe ignored her friend's groaning and went on, "Of course," she grinned slyly, "If she doesn't welcome us in a similar fashion, and it turns out she's a... female dog, we can always teach her a lesson. As in, dress up as Borgs and threaten to assimilate her!"

"That's lame! Throwing dried horse poo on her would be much more satisfying..."

Despite the droll speculations all around her, Patsy persisted in staying out of it. Her mood simply did not agree with any of their colloquies. The weather (as torturous as it might have been) was not at fault, and neither was the current subject matter. It was that horrific episode with Uriah Heep of two days bygone. It was that dark voice, that bone-rattling, otherworldly voice going on and on within her mind like a recorder set to infinity. Even after he had departed, he was still there; following her wherever she went and proclaiming his riddle. Her cabin mates were well aware of the inner turmoils and resulting isolation -- but they kept their distance, speaking only when necessary and taking care not to pry. For the haunting memory to be nullfied she required time, and should it be summoned again by a lapse on their part, the time required would become greater.

The communion went on for a good while until Miss Mucus ran out from her watch tower, her hefty body jiggling like a balloon filled with water. One by one the Scouts fell silent as she zoomed past them, declaring that she had spotted Hoo Hah. They looked over yonder and indeed his dark green jeep was fast approaching. But by the time Mucus had reached the booth to raise the red and white barrier, the Commander had already plowed right through it.

Hoo Hah screeched to a halt, chuckling nervously as he put the jeep in reverse. "Aw shit. I'm dreadfully sorry about that, Rubella."

But Mucus said not a word, for what was seated on the passenger's side left her wide-eyed and flabbergasted.

Hoo Hah crept forward a bit and then gave the key a twist. The engine died down at once, and he stepped out of his military vehicle; a huge grin spreading across his face when he spotted Patsy, his daughter. Not biologically, mind you, as he was a buffalo and she was a mongoose. She came to be 

apart of the Smiles family after Hoo Hah's wife and newborn son died during parturition. Not wishing to live a lonesome life, nor wishing to risk another terrible loss, he adopted Patsy (whose real parents were killed by a putrid and malevolent half-breed named Richie Evergrey) at the tender age of four. Many considered her lucky to be alive, but luck had no part in it. She still drew breath to this day because Richie vowed never to slay a child -- furre or otherwise.

The Commander gave her a wave and asked if she was keeping her undergarments clean and whatnot, which caused Patsy to recoil from sheer embarrassment. Laughing quietly, he walked to the other side of his vehicle and kindly helped the passenger out. The eyes of each Scout followed, studied and eventually widened when he drew closer and closer to them.

"Ladies! Front and center! This man..." said Hoo Hah. "...Is your new Scout Mistress! His name is Ron Trevors!"

"Actually... it's... um... Roine Trewavas." the man said, his cheeks turning slighty redder.

The buffalo blinked at the edification and laughed stupidly, giving Roine a jestful slap in the back. "Hear that? It's Roine Trewavas! Remember it well!"

Roine almost winced, but did well to hide any sign of distress. The last thing he needed was to be revealed as a weakling to ten young women who appeared far more rugged than he, despite his unshaven face and great height. God only knew of the mockery that could've ensued with that bit of knowledge in their possession. So he forced a smile and lowered his dim grey eyes onto them, not surprised that their mouths were still wide open from all the confusion. Save for one, who was keeping a low profile in the back for some reason or another.

Hoo Hah dismissed the girls from his little assemblage and returned to his jeep, tipping his hat to Miss Mucus as she picked up the remains of the barrier. Upon squeezing his broad frame through the door, he spoke to them again in a slightly harsher tone. "Now you'd better not give Mister Treewaver too hard of a time like you did Slugman! He's not a surrogate Scout Mistress -- he's a permanent one! That means no cutesy makeovers..." He paused for a moment to turn over the engine, speaking louder as it came to life with a roar and a cloud of black smoke, "...No playing tennis with his eyeballs! And no torturous activities that I have not mentioned! Should I even get one complaint from Mister Toewash, I will burn your underwear! Yes. I will be returning in a couple of days to check up on you girls. Until then... I bid you farewell!"

Roine was quite thankful when Hoo Hah had departed. Being called a 'Scout Mistress' twice in a row was most definitely cringeworthy. A few of the girls had come to realize this as well, and they giggled and whispered as usual. Roine brought the brim of his sepia colored fedora down over his eyes, cleared his throat, and pulled a sheet of paper covered with flowery patterns out from underneath his coat (which was the same color as his vintage hat).

"Can anyone tell me what this is?"

Nina adjusted her thick, orange-tinted glasses and replied, "That appears to be the Squirrel Scout Etiquette..."

"You're right. Most unfortunate for you, as Commander Hoo Hah told me that you're to follow it to the letter." Roine gave them a smirk. "It almost seems like a requirement if you are to be female. No, it _is_ a requirement..." When he said this, many of the Squirrels grimaced, as if they were hoping he would not advocate the horrors of femininity. Their fears were put aside once Roine retrieved the trash can sitting near the outhouse. "...To those who believe it's not rubbish, of course. I believe that you _can_ be female without some inane guide, so thusly, I will not force any of these restrictions upon you. In with the trash it goes!"

He went to pull the lid off in a dramatic fashion, but it stayed bound to the trash can, leaving Roine miffed and embarressed. He lifted the soiled beige container off of the ground with an inaudible grumble, giving it a hysterical shake. When that attempt ended in utter failure as well, Roine slammed it back down and tried wresting it open, his face searing hot with redness as the girls began their giggling again. After a good minute or so he had grown jaded, and with a swift kick he knocked the plastic bin over and promptly sat on it. The lid came off with a loud pop, much to the surprise of everyone. Roine then crumbled up the piece of paper and tossed it into the odious, garbage-ladened hole, looking very content with himself.

"In with the trash it goes..."

"Uhh, we never bothered following that stuff to begin with." Gretchen said while itching her buttocks. "Even when Miss Doe tried to force us..."

Roine ignored her and peered down at his silvery watch. "Well, what do you know; it's already twelve o' clock! Have you had your lunch yet? Of course you haven't!" Forcing another smile, he directed a finger to what he hoped to be their dining hall (though its true name elluded him). "Everyone get in the... whatever the hell you call it. That pink thing... over there."

"Which one?" said Honey, a bear who was far less intelligent than the rest, even if the question she asked was a relevant one.

Patsy suddenly came out of her silence and answered for the Scout Master, "He's talking about the Food Terrace."

"Yes, that's it! Couldn't remember what it was called for the life of me!" Roine rubbed his scruffy goatee and once again cleared his throat. "Off you go now..."

The ten scurried off with alacrity, sharing their mixed feelings about the one who would watch over them from here on after. Roine rose to his full height of six foot six and straightened his coat out a bit before returning the bin to where he had found it. He emitted a deep sigh as he set it down, and whispered to nobody in particular, "That wasn't so bad..."

A twig snapped behind him, and he spun around to see Miss Mucus approaching with a handful of red and white debris. She pulled the lid from the garbage can with ease (which made Roine feel even more like a weakling) and dropped it all in.

"Don't let 'em get to ya, Roine." she said. "In a day or two they'll be followin' ya around like a bunch of puppies. Wicked little puppies with a tendency to bite, that is, but that's why ya gotta bite back! Get rough and tough with 'em!" The warthog nudged him with an elbow. "But yer doing better than Jane Doe did when she became Scout Mistress. The girls were so damned hard on her, that she was close to quittin'! And this was on her first day, too!" That normally bitter expression on her gigantic face became far more gleeful when recollecting memories of past times. "Course, when I say they were hard on her, I mean they were defyin' the Etiquette she wrote up in every way possible. Burpin', spittin', playin' with bugs -- ya name it, they did it."

Her face went sour again. "Miss Doe went berserk the next day, painting everything in Acorn Flats pink and red, and giving the Squirrels the most feminine cabin decor possible. She purposely became oblivious to their complaints and what have ya, and hoped to hell that things would change over time. Never did, of course, but you couldn't tell her anything...

"Well, enough of my yappin'. I gotta go fix the girls somethin' to eat." She began waddling towards her destination, but halted upon remembering something most important. "I forgot to tell ya, your abode is right beside the Food Terrace. Ya can't miss it; it's the buildin' with the enormous cone reachin' for the skies. It's got a fridge, so ya'll can fix yerself whatever ya wish. Or if ya'll want me to fix ya somethin', I'd be more than happy to."

"Oh no, I don't think that's necessary. Though the thought is appreciated." Roine smiled. "Thank you, Miss Mucus."

So she handed him the keys and the two proceeded in the same direction until reaching the Food Terrace, where Mucus broke away and left Roine to himself. As he neared what would be his new home, his eyes caught sight of dull stains that marked the grass growing between the steps of his quarters and the flag pole. Roine crouched, running his slender fingers through the blades and then glancing up at the flag, which hung lifelessly from its pole.

_"Jane must've been killed here." _he thought.

Roine got to his feet, climbed the bone-white stairs and turned to the still forests across the lake, pondering what horror might have lurked within them. Judging from the gruesome details Commander Hoo Hah had passed onto him, the culprit sounded unquestionably animalistic, and was probably lingering closeby. Yet everything else about Miss Doe's death was very confusing indeed, and the fact that _Interpol_ had come to investigate only strengthened the confusion. Interpol didn't _do_ ground work, nor did they remove corpses for autopsies. That was left to lesser law enforcement groups. Of course, Interpol was but a shell of its former self now; it was no longer about preventing war crimes, drug trafficking or corruption, as it was corruption itself.

Roine shook it off and finally unlocked the door. He pushed it open and stepped inside, and at once his mouth fell open from utter stupefaction. The interior was a fusion of old-fashioned and modern-day decor, and everything (for the exception of the appliances) was bright and pink. He wandered around for a good while, examining photographs of former Mistresses and making sure the television was operational before heading into the bedroom. What he found in there made him smile in amusement.

"Fuck me. I even get a bed shaped like a heart."


	2. Like It Should Be

**Author's Note:** Usually, I have the second chapter give the story its identity. Those who have stuck with me over the past two years might have noticed this. But as I am a progressive writer, I like to change things up every so often. In the case of Beyond Twilight, the first chapter provided the identity, while the second provides a sense of familiarity for Camp Lazlo fans. Hell, I would go as far to say that this plays out like a Squirrel Scout-centered episode (as rare as they are). Just devoid of the craziness and what have you.

Future plot points are hinted in this chapter, and some developments are made. Don't be expecting another appearance from the mysterious Uriah Heep, however. He won't be making his return until Chapter 14. And even so, it won't even be at Acorn Flats. Rather, we get to find out where he and Gethsen Pheles do their string-pulling, along with Uriah's own secret intentions.

I have also given names and surnames to the Squirrel Scouts who were once without -- except for the final Scout (the elusive tapir). I haven't figured out what she will be called yet, but I'm positive it'll be Malaysian. If you'd like to contribute, just send me a private message, and I'll give you full credit in the Author's Note of Chapter 3.

And lastly, there are plenty of secrets for you to uncover. So read it over twice if you have to, as what you will find might startle you.

Enjoy.

**Chapter 2: Like It Should Be**

Nightfall soon came, and darkness took Leaky Lake, with the crescent luminary shining at its dimmest and only faintly revealing the moon-still water and the shapes of trees. A vast number of twinkling stars and glowing fireflies stood out in the cloak of black, hovering above and about the cabins of Acorn Flats. None were slumbering within, however. They were all seated at the entrance of the forest near a crackling flame, listening wearily to the stories their Scout Master told. For them, it was not to be a night of death -- though death would certainly occur in places closeby, yet quite unknown. For the ever-greedy would consume once more, and those truly responsible would repeat the process of muting the most terrible of happenings...

Of course, Scout Master Trewavas was mindful of the woods' dangers; but at the same time he disregarded them. Being a police officer once upon a time helped him to analyze the unseen's intent and execution, and he concluded that this animal (as it was sure to be) would not strike if he and his Scouts remained tightly knit. Judging from the lonesome death of Jane Doe and the lack of any subsequent slaughter in the past few days, his being correct was more than probable, although there was still a good chance that he was mistaken (and he prayed that this was not the case). But until he was wronged, Roine would do everything he could to overthrow the fear, as the woods were not to blame -- regardless of what nefarious things they sheltered.

So Roine went on, reading aloud a horror-themed short story (humorously titled 'Crazy Alice') to the girls before him, who yawned and gazed at him with insipidness. They felt that the proper atomsphere for this sort of tale was never generated; all due to his overdramatic telling and emphasis on the wrong words, yet Roine himself thought he was doing an excellent job. He gesticulated heavily when the story's only revelation revealed itself; the main character (a drunken sheriff named Willy) had learned that Alice (the title character and villian) was behind her husband's sudden disappearance. Indeed, it was _very _surprising. But before he could finish Alice's cliched monologue, a lavender pink gopher who normally kept to the background eructed sloppily, and the other girls came out from their torpor and responded with much laughter.

"Susie..." Roine groaned, shaking his head. "Girls, come on now..."

Even Patsy, who chose to remain isolated from the group, couldn't help cracking a smile. But it quickly faded after uncertainty and darkness smothered the moment of glee, and she recalled unblinking spotlights on a scarred, ageless and glaring face, reciting enigmatic words through a mouth without movement, and producing an inhuman resonance. She recalled the world _he_ made to replace her own for moments without, and the damage _he_ had done without lifting a single finger. And most especially, the terror that shook her body when she felt abandoned by all.

_He_ -- the man called Doctor Uriah Heep.

No! She refused to believe that he was even a man. As far as she was concerned, that _beast_ was an _it_.

Her face went sullen, and that glum feeling from past days returned to her. She knew she had to abrogate this memory, yet at the same time she didn't wish to. For there was something about that horrible moment which struck her as enlightening -- however cryptic it might've been. Why else would Uriah do such a thing unless_ it _was trying to convey a message of some sort? Then another thought presented itself; what would she gain if she figured it out? Did she even want to know of the truth? What if the enduring of this misery turned out to be futile in the end?

She looked to the left and right, to her friends all gathered round; still laughing like children at Susie's perfect timing, and then brought her eyes to the ground. Who would she lose if she sought the message and disregarded bonding built upon three years? Who else would feel miserable if she isolated herself further from entertainment and happiness? And what of Lazlo? What would he think of this new, grey Patsy? At that moment, the mongoose clenched her skirt while forming a look of determination on her face.

_"No goggled freak is going to make me feel like crap!" _she thought, "_Starting now,_ _I'm going to completely forget about it, and get back to being Patsy Smiles!"_

Much to the surprise of everyone, Patsy leapt from the tree stump she was sitting on and approached Roine.

"Um, Scout Master Treeman?"

Roine frowned and closed the book, setting it upon his lap. "Trewavas."

"Right, sorry. You aren't supposed to be reading bed time stories. These are horror stories we're talking about here. You're supposed to be _scaring_ people." She didn't seem very petulant during her explaination, which contradicted the foregoing Patsy Smiles. And it came as an even greater surprise when she actually offered to take over for Roine.

Without question Roine handed over the book and retreated to where Patsy was once sitting (behind Susie and Nina), while the mongoose herself settled down on the base of a fallen tree (Roine's spot), laying directly in front of the crackling flame and onlooking Scouts. She flipped through the latter parts of 'Crazy Alice' and stories of similar unengaging natures until she found what she desired (at least she hoped she did. The title appeared to signify distress, but all things in the world can mislead). Her efforts were twofold; as her fellow Scouts were still detached, she needed something that would provide a chilling atomsphere, while showing Roine how it was done as well. He certainly seemed like the jumpy type, so spooking him wouldn't prove to be _too _difficult...

"This story is called 'The Tragedy Of The Wilderness', by Sir Ahu Eephir." A queer feeling came over her after rolling the author's name off her tongue. It struck her as outlandish, but at the same time, very familiar. She shrugged it off and cleared her throat, thusly beginning with the next tale, "SGEX03-AF. That is what he believed his name to be. That is what the shady men in white had called him in memories of old; back when his home was made of glass and steel, and not wood and stone and soil. He knew not of why they disappeared, or why his surroundings abruptly changed. All he 

knew was that he was here to stay in this forlorn wilderness, as an indefinite amount of time had passed by, and no one from his past had come to bring him home...

"No, such thinking was ridiculous! They couldn't have just abandoned him. Not after feeding him so well, and tending to his health during troubling times. Times of unimaginable pain, when his front paws rended and lengthened, and his back paws became useless and floppy. When his upper jaw loosened, and when he started to grow thick, whip-like appendages from his hind quarters; which he could no longer see due to his neck becoming non-existant...

"Not after his 'Father' spoke so highly of him...

"His diminutive ears rose when he heard a soft rustle nearby, and he hastily retreated into a cluster of shrubs. He held his breath and squinted his three eyes, catching sight of a furre, plump and pale, with eyes wide open and a proboscis dangling from his face, waddling on as if he hadn't a worry. SGEX03 had seen this creature before -- albeit accompanied by two others who wore the same clothing and resided in the same area. He cared not for the reason of this curious noctivagation. In fact, he was quite pleased about it, for he would never descend from his mountain to prey after dawn or before dusk. Only during the fall of blackness did he hunt -- the rest of his time was commited to observing in secret, not wishing to ever be seen by anyone. It was but one of many psychological changes which would occur during his stay in the forest...

"SGEX03 crept out of the shrubs, keeping his tiny eyes glued to the anthropomorph, whose back was now turned to him. Although his build was massive and awkward, he could be muted and stealthy when he desired. He brought forth one of his appendages, which slithered on the forest floor like a malevolent serpent before wrapping itself around the elephant's leg, tripping him. Once fallen, his prey spun around in a violent manner, throwing leaves and dirt into the air as he did so. He made a slow approach, watching that once vigilant expression twist into obvious consternation. Then he leapt forth, and terrifying screams killed off the night's silence!"

Patsy emulated the scene with screams of her own. They were ugly, high-pitched screams that caused all of the girls to either gasp or shudder. However, their Scout Master merely slid a finger into his ear canal, appearing unfazed by the torturous sounds.

It was her intention to change that. "He managed to catch the elephant's flailing arms with his serrated teeth, and like saws they sliced through muscle and bone. The detached hands fell from his gaping mouth, along with warm goopy saliva that was darkened with blood. The screams then became short, high-pitched gasps as a state of shock sweep over the portly man..."

Patsy glanced up, taking note that a few of the furres appeared sickened. Luckily, she had a gut made of iron -- but she still couldn't help but sympathize. What she was reading was quite gratuitous for a story geered toward young adults. Even Trewavas was starting to look a bit pale. But nevertheless, this is what she wanted. By successfully frightening her fellow Scouts and Roine, she would truly become Patsy Smiles again. So she smirked and continued on, sensing that the climax would drive a nail through Roine's obvious defiance. "He tried desperately to flex his digits, not coming to the realization that his hands were no longer attached. He directed his wide-eyes downward, and instead of seeing those fat fingers in the blackness, he saw broken radius and ulna bones in the middle of shredded stumps, pointing up to the forest canopy. The revolting sight made him groan. He felt his stomach twist into a knot, and putrid vomit flooded his mouth as a result of both horror and melancholy...

"SGEX03 gurgled in delight, as he knew it was forfeiture the moment he and this creature had crossed paths. When the time came to end it all, he ripped the trunk off of the man's face and slung it aside with whatever else his teeth had caught. He heard a prolonged wisp after the gasping had ceased, and then all became still. It was almost a pity he killed it, as he did so enjoy the trashing of his prey while dismembering them. With a deep breath, SGEX03 gazed up to the canopy and released a long howl!"

Patsy produced a sound so menacing and geniune, that it caused every Squirrel to scream or whimper or grab hold of another. Yet it was not her doing -- to wit, her dreadful noise was merely accompanied by the wilderness' real life tragedy.

Regardless of what the truth was, it was enough to make Mister Trewavas fall backwards, and those who were terrified just before were now jocund. He picked himself and his fedora up from the ground, turning around to hide the red flushing over his face. It was just his luck; first he was referred to as a female (unbeknownst to the good Commander who had found him), then a garbage bin gave him trouble, out of all things. And now this; nearly jumping out of his skin to a campfire story. At this rate, he was sure the girls would never take him seriously.

"...That will do for tonight." he said after clearing his throat, and he motioned for them to follow. His decision was met with disappointment, to which he replied with, "It is growing late, my friends. You are bound to have nightmares should we have more grotesque stories told, and you need all the sleep you can get. Now, if anyone can give me a valid reason as to why we should prolong our time here, then please do so." And with that, not one of them answered. "No? Then let us return."

He straightened out his coat, took hold of his fedora and used his free hand to brush the dirt out of his hair (which was only prominent in the back, courtesy of his father's genes). Then he started off in the direction of Acorn Flats, with the girls all following in a sluggish manner.

Patsy tucked the book under her arm and sighed, feeling strangely again from that name she had uttered earlier. Ahu Eephir. Why did it seem as though she _knew_ this name? It was not a fragment from long ago, before her dear parents were butchered by the orange-eyed half-breed, or the time succeeding that event, when she was being crafted into a tenacious lass by her new father. For some reason, she was positive it was from present times. During this week, in fact. But she could not create an image of who the name belonged to.

Patsy's train of thought was derailed when Amber came up beside her, exclaiming, "Nice job scaring Scout Master _Treeman!_ That was like, really awesome!"

"Indeed it was! You're such a legend, Patsy!" added Nina, who came up on the opposite side. "But hey, if you don't mind me asking, what ever caused this recidivism? It was kinda sudden."

"Oh, I just... booted that weirdo out of my mind, if you get what I mean." Patsy simply said. "There's no use dwelling on someone who I'll probably never see again; especially if it hurts you guys as a result! So with him gone, I think I'll go back to thinking about my soulmate!" She batted her eyelashes, a big smile spreading across her face. "Lazloooo..."

Nina rolled her eyes as saliva ran down the mongoose's chin. _"I guess things are finally back to normal. Well, maybe not 'normal', but just like it should be."_

Up the red sun rose from hills afar, casting a blanket of warmth onto all who still slept. Its rays shone through the trees' dark green leaves, which shivered from the caress of a soft wind, and through the windows of each cabin, illuminating the figures laying quietly under their pink and white covers. The myriad birds with whom the Scouts shared the forest with soon awoke and fluttered from branch to branch, singing their songs as the lake's waves lapped the shoreline in a delicate, rhythmic manner. And Acorn Flats' own yacht, along with a few smaller boats rocked against the dock each time a wave rolled past. A very lovely symphony it was, and it was played for the slumbering denizens every morning -- unless the morning greeted them with rainclouds and thunder (when it became something far less beautiful).

Patsy opened her eyes as the noises outside became more audible. She stretched out her toned, hourglass-like body, hearing the occasional popping of a joint as she did so. Offering a yawn, the 

mongoose glanced up to the window above her, knowing that Miss Mucus' voice would come blaring out of the intercom at any moment. It was the usual beginning of their days, with the preservation of hygiene, mundane workouts and a hearty breakfast; which the Scouts almost always rushed through in order to get to their scheduled activities.

When the sun's rays began to shine with more brilliance, Patsy's cabin mates stirred from their slumber, and she greeted them with a fond "Good morning" as they yawned and rubbed the tiredness from their eyes. Nina replied with the upmost effervesce, while Gretchen just grumbled. Nothing at all unusual. Then they suddenly went still and silent in the midst of the agreeable temperature, taking a moment to luxuriate in their youth and ponder of the day still yet to unfold.

"Now that I think about it, yesterday wasn't so bad." Nina finally said. "For the most part. The tennis game was great -- as was the Brussel Sprout-eating competition. But that 'Crazy Alice' story of Roine's was inane. Sure, the way he told it was humorous at first, but the effect began to wear thin as he went on. Without your intervention, Patsy, I'm positive I would've fallen asleep!"

The mongoose giggled upon remembering that grown man falling over backwards -- but only when a feeling of concern overcame her did she reply, "You know, it might just be me, but I don't think Miss Mucus is very pleased with Roine. When he first arrived, she was giving him compliments and advice and all that stuff. But after he lifted those stupid precautions, she stopped speaking with him. I mean, remember how pissed she looked when he let us into the forest? He purposely defied the rules she set in place."

"Rules that she enforced like a one-woman-Gestapo." Nina interjected. "Rules that ruined any chance of having fun..."

"Yeah." Patsy frowned. "I have a feeling things are gonna get pretty nasty during the next few days..."

Leaving aside what their Scout Master had defied, it was clear that boredom would haunt them no longer, as what he provided for them (intentionally and not so much) was a definite improvement over previous days. Yet there was the chance of the heat becoming wayward and beating them down again, ruining any activity Roine might have had planned. And even if the sun _was_ merciful, there was still Mucus to worry about...

"Eh, who cares?" said Gretchen, who was using a claw to pluck out the remains of yestreen's dinner, wedged tightly between her sharp teeth. "As long as it isn't stupidity that's driving Mister _Treeman, _then I'm cool with him. Miss Mucus can stick her head in the oven for all I care."

Without warning (but expected all the same), the bronze speakers atop the watch tower rattled as Mucus barked the first order of the morning. Although the Squirrels heard it countless times during their stay, the thunder of the warthog's voice never failed to give them a jump. And jump they did; straight out of their beds and onto their heads or feet. Immediately, the lot of them fled from their cabins and to the washroom, where they cleaned their teeth and took turns taking icy cold showers. They spared but a few moments to tend to their appearance before rushing back, trading in their pajamas for their daytime attire (Robin egg blue unforms, cerulean berets and scarves, and red orange vests).

Breakfast (waffles and sausage doused with maple syrup) came and went as it usually did. Honey was making the more apathetic ones choke with an exaggerated Roine imitation, and Gretchen was flinging sausages at Margaret and Tootie; a jackal and a squirrel respectively, who had not kept their tomboyishness intact throughout the years. They ducked and covered their perfectly combed hair, wailing for the alligator to cease and desist, but she simply cackled in response and persuaded Patsy to enter the fray. The womanly furres could no longer keep their facades up, and retaliation came once Miss Doe's influences were bested. By the time Miss Mucus ordered them outside for their daily workout, the Food Terrace's interior was ladened with bits of flummery and sticky meat.

So they began with jumping jacks, struggling to stay in sync with the warthog's stentorian 'one-twos' while keeping their recent meal inside their bellies. It did occur to them that their morning routine was switched up, but they dared not stop and complain, for they were being watched very carefully by Mucus, who stood at the pinnacle of her tower with a speaker in one hand and binoculars in the other. They also noticed that Roine was watching them. Upon his doorstep he stood, resplendant in a sparkling pink nightgown, and gripping a coffee mug (of the same color, as you might have guessed) with an Egyptian Mau kitten on the side. Alas, he did not stay for long. Once he had left their sight, they all suddenly fell to the ground; panting and sweating from the thirty push-ups which brought their routine to an end.

Patsy was the first to rise again. After she brushed the dust off of her uniform, she exclaimed, "This sure defeats the purpose of those showers we took!"

"I know." Tootie said in reply. Besides being the only squirrel among the Squirrels (ironically), she was also the youngest and the shortest; even her dark violet hair stood higher than she. Tootie ran a finger along her cheek and then cringed. "Now my fur feels all gross again..."

"Oh, quit pretending to be such a _girl!" _

"Yeah, Tootie!" spat Gretchen, who had also assumed an upright position. "Do us all a favor and grow a pair! You too, D'Virgillo!"

Margaret gave her reptilian acquaintance a killing stare. She hated to be reminded of her surname, and Gretchen knew this for a fact.

"Excuse us for actually _caring _about our appearances." she said quite frankly.

Before their bickering could go any further, Mucus silenced them with her intimidating presence and a good bit of scolding. Roine soon came up alongside her -- this time clad in his sepia colored attire instead of Miss Doe's wretched old nightgown. He held in his left hand a roll call sheet, which was being tugged on by the lingering morning breeze. He gave the Head of Security a pat on the shoulder, and with a half-grin he said, "That'll do Mucus. That'll do." He waited until the girls were all upright and dusted off before continuing, "You all look like hobos. And I'm sure some of you are perplexed by the switch up I made, but rest assured, it will make perfect sense soon enough." Roine pulled a marker out of his pocket, using it to count the still exhausted furres while glancing down at the list and nodding -- occasionally murmuring to himself. "Ten on the list and ten before me. Right, that concludes roll call...

"Go and fetch your swimming apparatus, for your first activity is taking a dip in Leaky Lake." Roine handed the sheet to Mucus and she made off for the watch tower, while the Squirrels ran in the opposite direction, with Roine shouting, "Go on! Post-haste! Godspeed! Et cetera..."

Within the passing of five minutes, they had returned wearing their bathing suits and carrying brightly colored floatation devices, among other things. They either jumped from the dock, or wadded in, depending on who they were and what they carried with them. With the exception of Gretchen (who was having difficulties inflating her unnecessarily large beach ball), all were out and about in Leaky Lake; splashing at each other, submerging themselves, or floating peacefully with the water's rhythm. The blazing sun, peering down from the blue sea above was soon covered by a wall of white cloud, and everything became darker and cooler, for which they were thankful for. They just hoped now that it wouldn't rain.

"It's beach ball time!" proclaimed Gretchen after she had finished, and she jumped in with a splash

"No, Gretchen! No!" cried the others, but the reptile paid no attention. With a fruity cackle she began terrorizing everyone by slinging her ball at them, or tipping over their rafts. Patsy and Nina were, of course, enjoying the chaos their longtime friend was creating, but Samantha and Tootie were irked 

beyond belief. Their Scout Master didn't care that their relaxation time was being disrupted -- again. In fact, his eyes weren't laid upon any of them! He was sitting in a rusted fold-out chair, purposely immersing himself in the Prickly Pines Times (outdated by at least four years). Mucus paid them no mind either. Like a hawk, she watched for any 'misplaced' Bean Scouts from Camp Kidney, always keeping her cannon (which she installed against Miss Doe's orders) loaded with its non-lethal ammunition. Though deep inside, she wished that she could use spherical steel missiles instead of watermelons. Now _that_ would keep those Beans away from Acorn Flats...

"Scout Master! Gretchen stole my bikini!" Susie whined, keeping her plump chest covered.

"Miss Lake, please return the bikini to Miss Rothery." replied Roine in the dullest of tones. He did not budge, nor did he bother to even sneak a peek.

Gretchen did so without argument, and thereafter turned completely placid. She swam over to Patsy and Nina, who had bewildered expressions applied. Not from Gretchen's harmless thievery, but from the drabness that now circulated around their Scout Master. He was doing everything in his power to keep himself disconnected, and even though it was the exact opposite of Miss Doe's overbearing nature, Patsy was not at all thankful for it. Most irritated, she wadded over to where he was quietly seated and placed her hands upon her hips.

"Scout Master Thomas?"

His reply was predictable and blunt. "Trewavas."

"Well, okay. Why aren't you in the water with us, _Trewavas?"_

"Can't swim."

Patsy rolled those black orbs and went on, "Couldn't you wear a life-jacket? We have plenty of those in the shed..."

"None of them fit." He lowered the newspaper a bit, at last making eye contact with the stubborn furre. "Wearing one of those would be embarrassing, anyway, considering they're pink and ancient..."

"But you wore Miss Doe's nightgown!" she snapped. "And that was even more girly than our life-jackets!"

Roine closed the Times, looking somewhat offended by her riposte. "That will be enough, Miss Smiles." he said as calmly as possible. "Go make better use of your remaining fifteen minutes." And back to the newspaper he went.

Suddenly, Patsy took hold of his boots, and with one mighty pull Roine was in the lake -- albeit the shallowest part. He still writhed frenziedly, trying to break free of Patsy, who was guiding him into deeper waters with a wicked smile on her face. Roine yelped when he realized how far away from the dock he was, and in an act of impulse, wrapped his arms around the mongoose. Mucus (who just happened to peer down) shook her head at the pathetic scene, and soon she brought her attention back to the camp across the lake, which struck her as strangely inactive today. At least, from what she could see.

"P-please... Patsy..." Roine faltered. "D-d-don't..."

Patsy laughed in a high-pitched staccato. "You better hold on, or you'll drooooown."

Trewavas clenched his teeth and tighened his grip around her curvaceous build, feeling his clothing grow heavier as the water seeped into it. He felt abashed not only by this situation, but being 

entwined with a female far younger than he. Patsy cared not -- although she _would_ question having him so close if he weren't such a pleasure to torture. If anything, the growing redness of his face and his continual state of panic just widened her smile.

"This is kind of sad." she whispered in his ear. "Our great and manly Scout Master at the mercy of Patsy Cynthia Smiles."

"Come on, Patsy." said a somewhat vexed Nina. "Just let him go."

Gretchen retrieved her beach ball and bounced it softly. "Yeah, we want to pick on him too!"

With a sigh, the mongoose heeded her longnecked friend, and rather than allowing Gretchen to carry out more superfluous bullying (which Nina wanted nothing to do with), she drifted with the Lake's current until they were inches away from the shoreline. She released Roine from her clutches and watched as he treaded the moist sand. He stopped for but a moment to pull a bottle from one of his many pockets. He gave it a hard shake and then slipped it back down whichever pocket it came from. Before long, he had already set foot within his home, apparently leaving Mucus in charge (who was not even aware of Roine's retreat). All the while the girls viewed quietly, each with a grim expression pasted onto her face. The Prickly Pines Times, which had fallen in along with Roine, floated right on by the frozen ten. It was smeared and ruined; unseen and unbothered.

"Gee. What happened to the Roine of yesterday?" Almondine wondered aloud, gently scratching the area underneath her beak. "And what was in that bottle?"

"Medications, maybe?" Susie said with a shrug.

"The question is," Gretchen began, "what bit him in the ass this morning?"

"I don't think anything bit him in the ass, Gretchen." Patsy said, her tone sounding much less playful than it was before. "But something is definitely bugging him. He wasn't distancing himself to this extreme." Her eyes, at first staring at nothing in particular, were now pasted onto the greenish, rippling water below. "I think I might've gone too far by dragging him around like that. And I think he might contemplate quitting because of me... and..."

"You gotta be kidding!" Gretchen threw her arms into the air, and small droplets of water fell as an aftereffect. "After having him experience a little something called _fun_? Come on, Patsy. The Scout Master's a wuss, no doubt about that, but he's not a _baby. _He'll get over it in a few."

"Still, I'm going to be a considerate Squirrel Scout (like I've always been) and apologize."

Gretchen, nor the others spoke as Patsy glided through the Lake, now ever so delicate. The morning wind had ceased, and the clouds above were beginning to break apart, once again revealing the orb of light and majestic sky. Patsy gave her body a fierce shake, and the droplets that flew from her disappeared into the foamy shoreline on which she stood. She continued towards Roine's pink abode, the grass brushing away the wet sand adorning her padded feet. As she slowly crept up the wooden stairs, she listened for sounds -- any kind of sound, including those accompanying sadness, for Gretchen could have been incorrect about Roine. The thought of him weeping over something so frivolous left her confused; she was not sure whether to crack a grin, or feel dreadful. Nonetheless, the house struck her as muted and dead. She peered through the windows, hoping to catch sight of Roine lying on the sofa, looking contemplative or embarrassed as he normally did...

Her eyes saw nothing.

Patsy knocked at the door, eagerly awaiting a response, but one never occured. She knocked louder, and this time called for Roine. "I know you're in there, Scout Master Trewavas! Would you please answer the door? I want to _directly_ apologize to you, and this isn't exactly what I call direct!"

The house remained as it was, and this irritated Patsy to a great extent. "Come on! I'm not playing a trick on you, if that's what you're thinking! Just open up!" She stood there for a few more seconds, realizing then that he was not going to comply. So she growled and gave the door a sharp kick. "Okay, fine! Stay in there and pout! You're just a big pansy who wallows in boringness! And you need to shave! Do you hear me, Scout Master? Shave!"

Patsy knew that she shouldn't have flouted like that, and as she descended the wooden steps, a horrible feeling fell over her. Instead of returning to Leaky Lake to wait out those surely empty final minutes, she guided herself back to her cabin and leapt onto her bed as she was.

Twilight prevailed in more ways than one, and Patsy, now dressed in her uniform, watched as Roine carried outside a world map attached to a metal stand. He placed it directly in front of the flag pole, and returned again to his dwelling. Roine's sudden engagement struck her as a welcome surprise, for he had not shown himself since his retreat, which occured a great while ago. As it was all reminscent of the times Miss Doe or Mister Trewavas were absent, she (and the rest) immediately and accordingly made the best of those endless hours.

Patsy still dwelled on the Scout Master's isolation and its possible causes. She was certain the root of it was not her fault. If anything, it was something of the past that left him so frail and depressing -- but her show of contempt indubitably helped extend his stay within. Her small ears twitched each time he slunk past, and fell flat each time he disappeared from sight. She truly wanted to rush out there and ask for his forgiveness, yet a simultaneous feeling urged her to keep away.

"I wonder what that cheap-looking representation is for?" Nina mused, to which Patsy answered with a limp shrug.

"I wonder how he can even carry it." Gretchen chuckled, following up with another snide remark, "That stand looks _mighty _heavy."

"Can it, Gretchen." Patsy hissed.

Not one of the three had known that Trewavas furtively made his way into the watch tower, but they came to realize this after hearing his soft voice emnate from the speakers. In a predictable move, he requested that the Scouts bring themselves to his lonesome little set up, post-haste. And so they did, but they kept their curiousity caged while exiting their given abodes. Thus, only sounds that filled the air was the muffled clapping of their steps, the wild and neverending chorus of Leaky Lake's amphibious inhabitants, and the low whistling of an evening wind. A few noticed Roine lumbering out of the tower's opening, and he tipped his hat to those who laid eyes upon him. He halted when they halted, straightened out the stand and rotated himself, placing his hands behind his back with a forced smile. Strangely enough, Mucus was nowhere to be seen. Just like the previous night, it was as though she wanted nothing to do with Roine's more questionable activities.

"It's good to see you all, again." he said, trying his very best to sound upbeat. "I'm hoping you made good use of the free time I've given you. Our final activity for the day will involve not your bodies, but rather, the power of your mind."

"We're not going to be..." Margaret gulped. "...Learning, are we?"

"That's precisely what we're going to be doing. Albeit, not in a way you would expect."

"This isn't a school, Scout Master." stated Margaret, and many of the Squirrels nodded in concurrence.

"Of course not." His shammed smile disappeared. "And with that in mind, you should desist this complaining. As I said before, it will all make perfect sense. So if you would please, Miss D'Virgillo," Roine watched her face twist into a furious expression the moment he mentioned her surname, "Recite your Maxim."

Margaret sighed lightly, and reckoned that it wasn't ignorance on Roine's part. She had never enlightened him of the turmoils involving her kin -- he was totally unaware of her hatred of the D'Virgillo surname. She applied a calmer appearance and began with the Maxim every Scout knew by heart, "As the shelter and slayer of Man, and as Squirrel Scouts, we shall dedicate ourselves to the blade of infliction, the deconstruction of all that we were born with, and tainted knowledge..."

"Tainted knowledge," Roine said very slowly, "though synonymous with bullshit, _is_ apart of your daily rituals. But that motto, if I do recall, had its own place on the Squirrel Scout Etiquette, which we've done away with. Hence, I will give unto you plain, _uncontaminated _knowledge.

"Let's start with you, Miss Bear. Could you point to where the United States is located?"

Honey's mouth began to water, and her eyes wandered in opposite directions while she approached the stand. Without thinking (as she hadn't much to think with), she placed a stubby finger onto Antarctica, expressing a rather proud look.

Roine stroked his goatee. "The United States is not that _cold,_ I'm afraid." He then turned to Susie, whose mind seemed to be somewhere else. "Miss Rothery, was Adolf Hitler apart of the Rothschild bloodline?"

"Adolf Hitler? Was he a president?"

"Wrong!" He exclaimed in a more abrasive tone, which caught them all off guard. "Miss Smiles, what is dark matter?"

Knowing a great many things about space and science fiction, Nina gasped and bounced and gave her hand a wild shake -- even though it was not her question. And she groaned in disheartenment when Patsy answered incorrectly with, "Matter that is... dark?"

"Wrong! Miss Neckerly, is A1 milk safe to drink?"

"Well, according to the Food and Drug Administra-"

"Wrong! Miss Reingold!" Tootie's small ears sprang the instant Roine called her out. "Who is Credo Mutwa?"

"A person!"

"He is more than just a _person!"_ Roine snapped, and Tootie's massive tower of dark hair toppled onto her face. "Miss Lake, who rules the world?"

Intending for her answer to be humorous and without any care, Gretchen flashed Roine a nasty grin and said, "Satan."

"Yes, correct!"

The alligator's large tooth-filled mouth dropped, and her normally squinted eyes widened to their fullest as a mixture of both amazement and bewilderment filled her. The other Squirrels just gawked at her and then at one another, each sharing the same exact face, feeling and thoughts. How could the most inane answer be the truth? Was Roine simply leading them along, or was he being dead serious? And why Satan, out of all things of the world?

"Fret not;" Roine said, as if he had read their minds, "for I am not attempting to degrade you in any way. I am just alerting you of the knowledge that you lack, but can easily obtain during the time we spend together. But only if you are willing to accept that which is hard to accept. You must understand that if you continue living under this supressive 'normality', you'll end up like those Young Earth Creationists; who firmly believe a Tyrannosaurus Rex used its teeth to crack open coconuts. Or maybe you'll end up like those Scientologists; who advocate that fucking ridiculous Xenu story. Or poorer still; you'll become humble sheep -- serving your masters without question or thought..."

Nina rubbed her chin and then lifted an eyebrow. "Isn't that a bit hypocritical?"

"Elaborate, Miss Neckerly."

"You're telling us to accept that which is hard to accept, then you go and trash YECs and Scientologists. I mean, isn't the whole idea of a young Earth hard to accept? Or some space dude forever trapped in a mountain? I'm not saying I believe in that stuff, but the confliction is very noticeable..."

"It would seem that way, but both of these ideas and those who possess them are ladened by _agenda_. Furthermore, it is not abnormal to be disconnected from reality, or to be consumed by greed. I can assure you that all you will learn from me is the truth, and nothing more. I must warn you that a good deal of it _will_ be hard to swallow, so bear with me...

"What will it be, then?"

"...I'll listen." Patsy said before anyone else. Without a doubt, she was the most eager to learn of Roine's secrets. Yet like the other girls, she still felt uneasy about stepping into the unknown. Would her life change for the better, or would it be annihilated by this newfound knowledge? Did she want to know why it had to be Satan? Did she want to know of all the things lying beyond the ivory gates? Or was that promised land without any existance? However many questions flooded her mind, she remained absolute in her decision to go forward, and before long, they had all nodded their heads or voiced their agreement, which Trewavas responded to with a genuine smile.

"Thank you, Scouts. Our first real session will occur Friday evening. You're dismissed." He lifted the stand from where it stood with a grunt, but unlike the Scouts he did not set out just yet. "Oh, Gretchen? I am most impressed with you. You should be proud of yourself!"

Although he could not see it due to her back being turned, her snout was now painted a bright shade of red.

**121208518'19 1415205: **2085 1122201812113 1659144 31513519 815135.


	3. Our Little World's Impact With Reality

**Author's Note: **To all who believe that I have a slave writer, or that I've stolen my own literature; you are not and never will be Japanese. Nor will you ever possess my writing skills, you silly one-shot wonders.

Though mostly dialogue-driven, there are still HUEG revelations in this chapter -- but if you're outstandingly smart, and have deciphered everything in the previous chapter, said revelations won't come as much of a surprise. It's still fun to see the characters stumble upon the same things you did, right? But I must say, a few secrets will continue to be veiled for the time being. This includes Roine's suspicious behavior, his bottle, and the identity of SGEX03-AF.

I'd like to thank Eudemic for personally helping me with Krav Maga and difficult areas of description, and the surely pulchritudinous Grand Phoenix for helping me with the green tapir's name. It is Zahirah something (surname still unknown). Remember it well!

**Chapter 3: Our Little World's Impact With Reality**

Miss Mucus, whose face expressed a mixture of annoyance and disdain, lumbered back and forth before the Squirrels, who stood like statues under a beaming morning sun. Their first postprandial activity had apparently begun the moment they formed a perfect row, and that is all they knew. Or rather, all they were supposed to know, as their Scout Master would put it. Their day was again shrouded in mystery and shadow -- however, this time the mandatory happenings which preceeded were left untouched, so they hadn't any reason to whine or mope about. In confusion (and perhaps curiousity) they kept their eyes pasted onto Roine, who stood near Acorn Flats' entrance with his arms crossed. His own eyes were directed to a well trodden road, which stretched forth for a couple hundred meters until it suddenly curled behind a great mountain. Judging from the duration he stood, it seemed as though he was expecting someone.

A longwinded minute departed, and soon monotaneous beats resounded over yonder. As the wave of sound became more thunderous, they were able to discern vulgar words in the midst of it. The aforementioned words were repeated countless times in succession, and any message the 'song' was trying to impart became without point, and quite frankly, unintelligent. Then from around the mountain came a jet black Escalade, with dark tinted windows and gigantic silver spinners. It appeared to be well maintained, as it still glimmered with brilliance and hadn't a single dent, so it couldn't have been the property of a Prickly Pines denizen (Prickly Pines was an old-fashioned town, constructed right along the shoreline of Leaky Lake and populated with sixty or so folk, who were _almost _civilized in their mannerisms). Whatever the case, it was the indisputable core of the racket, and from the moment the Squrrels saw it plodding along (only increasing its speed with little random bursts), things began to feel far less quotidan than yesterday's closure.

The awkward utility vehicle pulled up to the twelve at last, and right when it did, the front end started to bounce up and down in a comical way -- obviously from hydrolics. Then its sides rocked as if it were dancing, before finally sinking low to the ground with an unheard hiss. The rap music ceased when the engine was switched off, and the scene was frozen and muted thereafter. The girls, with their jaws hanging; their eyes wide and inspecting, awaited for their guest to reveal himself -- but he did not do so for a good minute or two. And when that time was upon them, many exclaimed in whispers, "Was Roine stoned when thinking up this activity? !"

Their guest was embonpoint, with cocoa skin and heavy lips and no hair on his head to speak of. He wore a plain blue polo shirt, black jeans and leather boots that had surely seen better days. Upon his face were shades as dark as his Escalade's windows, and a thick, neatly trimmed beard. Hanging from the left side of his belt were two holsters. Nestled within one was the standard issue INLEV-152 Shock Pistol (a non-lethal firearm), while the other sheathed a Glock 26. This man, important and expendable all the same, was Chief Kiss, and his reason for visiting was a far cry from his typical rituals, as you shall soon find out.

"Salutations, bitches!" Kiss said, his voice nasal and awkward. "Ma name's Zaire Dudley Kiss, but I'm also known as th' 'Black Candycane' in otha' circles. No hatin' on th' names, or I become a pissed nigga and get out ma muddafuckin' bazooka, and we wouldn't want dat! I am also th' Chief of the International Enforcement Extension numba' thirty-five, which is th' only dumpy piece o' shit in th' beautiful city of Paris--"

"Just for clarification purposes," Nina interrupted in the kindest manner she could, "the I.E.E. is known more generally as Interpol, right?"

"Fosho." The moment he acknowledged this, a wildfire of fascinated murmurs spread throughout the gathering. But Kiss, unbeknownst to the interest now sparked, paid them no mind. "So I comin' a long way ta teach yo' pancake-asses some Krav Maga. Do any of ya know what Krav Maga is?"

Tootie jumped excitedly while flailing her arms. "Does it involve shampoo?"

Chief Kiss gave her an incredulous stare. "Whut! Whut th' fuck is dis shit? Krav Maga... shampoo? I'm hopin' not all of ya wimmins are as dumb as Marge Simpson over here." As he pointed to Tootie, her hair fell into her face again; and in a state of utter embarressment she crept behind the other girls.

After making a disparaging remark under his breath, Kiss pushed his shades up with a stubby index finger and went on to explain, "Krav Maga is a phys'cal defense system, all fo' inflictin' swift and brutal amounts o' damage while keepin' yo'self safe as ya do so. It was first concieved in Hungary and Czechoslov-- uh, however th' fuck ya pronounce it, by dis dude named Imi Sde-Or. He first taught it ta deze Jews in th' 1930s, in order ta protect themselves from dem crazy Nawzis. Then, I think it was over a decade lata', he went on ta become th' Chief Instructor o' Krav Maga at th' Israeli Defense Force's Schoo' o Combat Fitness, where he taught fo' twenty mo' years.

"Sorry to say, Imi died in 1998, but his defense system is still taught worldwide in community centers, law enfo'cment establishments such as Interpol, and such. Now I hope ya feelin' less stupid after dat history lesson, cause I hurt ma' brain diggin' all dat up. Anyway, movin' on, Mista' Roine Trewavas over here requested dat I teach ya bitches dis, so when faced wit' somethin' life-threatenin', like fo' example, a big burly rapist muddafucka wit' a machete and a lethal tempa', ya won't be runnin' around flappin' yo' arms everyplace like a bunch o' dysfunctional seagulls, f'real. And ya got ta' remember: th' world is a cold one. Th' future don't look good at all fo' the next generation ya represent, so think of dis as a favor from someone who don't wanna see ya crash and burn.

"We'll begin once we clear somethin' up; I gotta know of any of ya is left-handed."

"Zahirah is." said Margaret, patting a green tapir on the shoulder. "Of course," she lowered her voice, "she has always been a bit different." Now, it might strike one as brave of her to say, but truth be told, Zahirah could understand very little English. So as Zahirah rose her left hand and jabbered in rapid Malaysian, Margaret gave her a multitude of firm nods in reply. Quite magical.

"Huh." croaked Kiss. "We start wit' th' fightin' stance! Right-handers will put their left foot out..." The nine right-handed Scouts followed his orders, although some were not treating this lesson seriously, as giggles broke out when the clumsier ones tumbled onto the soil. Kiss just furrowed his brow and continued, "While th' weird pink-haired pachyderm thing will be doing th' opposite. That includes th' punches and kicks -- not just th' stance. Ya feelin' me?" The tapir gave him a thumbs-up, and did everything without complications. "Excellent! All of ya want ta have sixty percent of weight on yo' front foot, and fo'ty percent on th' rear. Then, direct yo' rear foot fo'ward -- fo'ward foot turned toe-in a little bit. Ya know, ta protect yo' cockpits."

The Chief turned to Trewavas, standing recumbent alongside that vicious-looking sow (who was no longer pacing). "Ya wanna join us, Scout Massa? Add some wood to a bunch o' titties?"

"No thanks." Roine responded, ignoring the derisive noise made by Mucus. "It would be a useless lesson for me, if you're feeling me correctly."

Patsy mouthed to Nina, "What does he mean?", but her longnecked friend merely shrugged -- without breaking her perfect stance, mind you. Rather than just goofing around like Honey and Tootie and Amber, Nina was making a genuine attempt to learn the system.

Their misapprehension only grew when Kiss chuckled, for the reply Roine had made was in prospect. "I gotcha, dawg. No need to learn somethin' ya already know about."

"Yes, well, I've forgotten a great deal of Krav Maga." Roine said, scratching his goatee and wearing an uncomfortable look. "Thus my own teaching would have been an incomplete one. And a general waste of time. And perhaps a bother. But please, Zaire, do continue."

"A'ite. Ya girls wanna keep yo' hands open and relaxed; not too close ta' yo' face, but at eye-level. And ya wanna rememba' ta' keep yo' chin down! Ya need ta' protect yo' throats at all times, f'real. Da's th' stance. Let's cova' some of th' basic moves...

"First one's pretty self-explainatory. It's called th' straight punch. It's like a jab in boxin', only ya don't rotate yo' hand in th' end, f'real. First, I'm gonna teach ya how to make a fist. Lift both yo' hands, bend yo' fingas once, then again, and dig yo' nails into yo' palm. Press yo' thumb into th' top of yo' index finga', like so, and squeeze as hard as ya can. Ya want ta get all of th' air out of yo' fists. The reason ya want ta do this, is to keep yo' hand from actin' like an air-shock, or some muthafuckin' high-schooler punchin' his car and breakin' his hand, like whut! In addition, ya do mo' damage. A'ite? Good, now I show ya how ta do it." He thrusted his forward hand in a lightning quick motion and recovered as soon as he reached full extension. The girls emulated his movement, with a couple showing much delay in their recovery time. "A'ite, see dat? Dem' dat movin' like retards." Kiss frowned at a certain bear, whose eyes were staring off into different directions, and a certain squirrel who was busy adjusting her hair, which had come out of place through her exertions. "Ya wanna recover fast, so ya can use dat hand again." Kiss repeated the move twice, laughing as gravity did wonderous things to the ten 'pairs'. And because the Scouts had improved to an extent. "Da's right! Let's continue wit' th' snap kick...

"Ya want to bring yo' knee up, keeping yo' calf perpendicular to th' ground. When yo' thigh is parallel to th' ground, extend yo' lower leg in a whippin' motion. Pschaw!" After the Chief pulled off the kick flawlessly, the girls attempted to do so as well, but with disasterous results. Many had fallen backwards when shifting their weight, or had strained their leg muscles, fussing like children when they did. "...With yo' toe pointin' forward." Kiss added, purposely acting oblivious.

The Krav Maga lesson continued, with Kiss adding new combatives to their arsenal; hammer fists, headbutts (which caused Nina to overbalance and strike the ground with her forehead, resulting in a great deal of praise from the instructor), elbow strikes and knees. Once those aspects were covered, and everyone was quite exhausted, Kiss elaborated further about the psychology of physical confrontation, encouraging them to make use of their surroundings and reminding them that there are no rules.

"We almost finished. I think ya did pretty good, but there's one last lesson to be learned here. Fo' dis, I gonna need a volunteer." He scanned the ten, waiting for a hand to spring up in the air. When no one offered themselves, Kiss pointed a finger to Gretchen and said, "Yo bitch! Wit th' big mouth and the funny hair. I is 'voluntelling' ya."

Gretchen snorted and scuttled forward, ignoring Kiss' stupid remark about throwing rings at her hair. "What do you want me to do?" she growled.

"Ya know in a moment." He placed his chubby hands around her neck, pressing his thumbs lightly against her windpipe. "Our final lesson is breakin' free of a choke from th' front. Now, when I chokin' this ugly ho, whut should she be concerned 'bout?"

Honey lifted her hand and answered, "AIDS?"

"Whut! No, th' correct answer is my fuckin' thumb is crushin' her big ass throat. And da's not good. Should ya find yoself in dis predicament, first thing ya wanna do is force yo' chest outward. And let me tell ya; dis here bitch ain't gonna have too many problems doin' that. She got enough chest! Next thing ya wanna do, is make precurved little hooks wit' yo' hands, like so. Dere, da's good. Then reach up, pluck up th' person's thumbs and pull 'em down to th' sides of yo' chest. Then smash their nuts wit' yo' foot or give 'em a punch, and get th' fuck outta dere. Got it?"

Gretchen nodded, not knowing she had to actually perform this until Kiss barked, "Are ya trippin'? ! I'm chokin' ya -- do somethin'!" She felt his grip tighten, and so she thrusted her ample chest forward (hitting Kiss' own chest and causing him to cough), hooked her claws and pried off his thumbs, following up with a heavy kick to his crotch. Kiss howled and fell to his knees, with Gretchen putting his hand in a cavalier, a little something she had learned from her uncle, who was a well-known bounty hunter (of course, he was completely unheard of in this region).

"Hep me! Hep!" Kiss screamed. "She kickin' ma ass! Make th' bitch stop! Lawd!"

All of the girls giggled at the Chief's pathetic display. Patsy cheered for Gretchen, happening to look over at the Scout Master and his brawny assistant. She noticed that Roine was holding a hand over his grinning mouth (which pleased her), while Mucus was looking smugly superior. She returned her sights to the dramatic scene, with a protesting Kiss making an attempt to tap out. Gretchen scoffed at the so-called officer, releasing him at last and returning to the gathering, where she was met with applause.

Kiss kept to the ground for a while, muttering a great stream of obscenities before regaining his composure. He shook his aching hand, brushed the dirt from his pant legs and then cleared his throat, gaining the young furres' attention again. "Dat was very good, I must say. Of course, I was just fakin' it ta' make ya feel awight. It's not like I was really in pain, cause I got iron balls!

"Do any of ya have any questions? Dere has ta' be some, I'm sure!"

Patsy was the only one who raised her hand. Once Kiss had nodded in her direction, she lowered her hand and placed it behind her back with the other, and asked a question that was not relevant to the system learned, but to Kiss' line of work, "Has Interpol performed an autopsy on Jane Doe yet? Our old Scout Mistress?"

"Is dis some kind of joke?" growled Kiss. When Patsy shook her head, he went on to say, "Sorry, but no Jane Doe in _dis_ here vicinity has been autopsied, nor have any investigations taken place. Trust me -- if it happened, I would be one o' th' first ta' know."

Patsy stood aghast, unsure of what to say or what to think of this revelation. Soon chaos ensued in her midst, as the others began bouncing, waving and bawling out question after question, hoping that their visiter would somehow catch and resolve all of them. While Mucus tried desperately to quell them with the roaring of "Shut yer traps!", Patsy severed her gaze on the mystified Chief Kiss and looked over at Roine again, seeing that his visage was a copy of her own. It was difficult to believe that such a face was pasted upon him, just as it was difficult to believe that an inquiry could spawn _this. _Patsy then bit her bottom lip when an exasperated Mucus waddled closer, and watched as the swine retrieved a golden object from her breast pocket.

All it took was a slight flicker of it, and the crazed Squirrels Scouts fell completely silent. Past experience alerted them of how nasty Mucus could be once she pulled the whistle out. Not only did 

their ears ache from the continuous shrill noises she produced from it, but it meant that they were teetering on the possibility of going home, and that was the last place any of them wanted to be.

"Yer behavior is unacceptable, Scouts!" Mucus shouted, spraying saliva everywhere. "Keep yer damned lips zipped until yer called upon! Ya'll were sent here in the first place because ya'll were burdensome little devils who gave yer parents hell! Well, _I'm_ gonna be giving _ya'll _hell if this keeps up! Do I make myself clear, ladies?"

"Yes, Miss Mucus..." They all droned.

Kiss caressed his beard with an idiotic chuckle. "Crazy wimmins. Let's try dis again, awight? Accept dis time, let's keep it related ta' Krav Maga." He did not wait long, for Nina was the next to _calmly_ raise her hand. "Ah, the 'Fuckin' Trebuchet!' Speak ta' me!"

"I'd like to apologize beforehand, because this has nothing to do with Krav Maga." Gulping, Nina tugged on her uniform's collar, avoiding the Chief's veiled stare. "Mind you, I'd like to make a follow up to Patsy's question..."

The portly man drooped his arms and sighed. "Shoot."

"Don't you think that it's weird? That you would have no knowledge of an investigation? Doesn't this mean that the big wheels of Interpol are conducting super-secret missions, which then plainly led to cover-ups?"

"Hold on one second!" snapped Kiss, suddenly becoming rather rigid in his posture. "Didn't I make it clear earlier dat I would be one o' th' first ta' know? Dis investigation of yo's neva' happened!"

Nina crossed her arms. She knew that he was getting uncomfortable with her queries. It sort of reminded her of those fictional conspiracy books she owned (concerning flying saucers and the like), when those who were not easily led astray dismantled an official's inane explainations. "Oh? How do you explain our Scout Mistress' disappearance--"

"A'ite, da's enough!"

"But--"

"I said _enough,_ ya hairy pencil! Or I gonna ride ma dick on yo' fo'head!"

Kiss watched the giraffe back away, shaking his head when her face carved a somber expression. He adjusted his glasses for no reason, and went over to Roine with an outstretched hand. The two gripped each other tightly, with Roine mumbling apologies and words of thanks. Kiss gave him his own, flashing a brisk salute to his old friend before hurrying back to his Escalade, containing any farewells to those he had taught. For this, he might have come across as a discourteous fellow, but he needed to return to the Le Police Station -- and fast, because there was much to be sought. For starters, who had removed a corpse from this area and why was it unknown to him, out of all people? Kiss shook off the discomforting curiousity and switched over the engine. Without delay the rap music returned, deafening the rumble of the engine and his own breathing. He then put the large vehicle in reverse, turned, and sped away in the direction he previously came.

Roine straightened out his belt, taking a look-see at his watch afterwards. "Hmm. I suppose it would be best for you to settle down and reflect on all that has been learned. In the meantime, Mucus and I will get the goals and such prepared for the upcoming soccer game. Well, go on! We shall not take long!" He made a 'shooing' motion with his hand, and the furres set out for their respective cabins. Along the way they started blurting things like, "That Kiss guy knows something we don't!" and, "That 

was the dumbest activity ever!", which Roine just simpered to. But before he could make for the shed, Mucus had grabbed him by his coat.

"Roine? Can I have a word with ya?" Her voice, though perpetually harsh, sounded far less threatening than when she was raging.

"Of course you can. What would you like to know, Miss Mucus?"

"Please," she said while fluffing her red hair (actually it was a wig) with a free hand, "just call me Rubella."

Roine's face crumpled, as the name brought back undesirable memories of another individual who possessed it. "Fine, yes. R-Rubella."

"Yer reason for inviting that man over here for a Krav Maga lesson. What was it?"

"My reason for inviting him was the same as his reason was for teaching them."

Appearing now to be far more disappointed than amorous, Mucus freed him of her grip and placed her arms underneath her monolithic chest. "Then ya believe the future will demand such teachings?"

He grunted, erasing quickly from his mind the image of a flirty Miss Mucus. "It would be ignorant of me to speak of the future." he replied. "So I ask that you conserve your trust for me through our endeavors -- no matter their size or consequence."

He decided that no more needed to be said (in truth, he wished to get away from Mucus as she was), and strode off towards the shed, which was located right near the pool, across from the watch tower and a few stray picnic tables. Roine pulled open the creaking, rotted doors and switched on the light, grimacing again at the sheer amount of cobweb sewn across the dismantled goals, and everything that had grown useless over the course of three years. Wear one of _these _life-jackets, indeed!

The transition that spanned eternally brought star and moon out again. Swirling clouds of the darkest blues and greys stretched across the sky; and if one was to lay eyes upon it, it might strike him as some old, smeared painting. The relaxing music of crickets was absent tonight, as was the quiet shuddering of the foilage and the random creaking of the cabins' vermilion roof tops. All that made a night at Acorn Flats familiar was instead replaced with a gelid chill. It was oppressive, and brought a sense of unease for those slumbering who had also felt it hours before Jane Doe was murdered. Despite the Scouts being surrounded by wooden walls and having many blankets layered upon themselves, the chill continued to bite and gnaw.

However, it was neither the ominous sensation nor the badgering bite of the cold that impeded Patsy's sleep. It was an odor, increasingly rank and hanging heavier in the air as time crawled onward -- and, this night, time crawled so very slow. Her cabinmates must have been aware of it, for they had hidden themselves beneath their covers. It would not be long until one of them started the old interrogation, she figured. But contrary to what they would say without doubt, Patsy _knew _the stench was not something you encountered on a day-to-day basis. Yes, she recalled it being the same one that invaded her turbinates four nights ago -- yet again before Jane's death, and it was the same one that loomed over Patsy and the others as they encircled that mutilated body, bearing hardly any identity. She was sure it was not of death (as she knew death well on that bygone day, when Evergrey did what he did), but she couldn't shake the feeling that it signified the coming. So in the confines of her mind she wondered; was something or someone to die tonight? And just what was it that produced this stench?

A stirring closeby caused her jolt upward and gasp. She rotated sluggishly to the direction of the noise, squinting her eyes in the blackness. She felt quite mitigated after realizing that it was just Gretchen, who grumbled and kicked the covers from her body. Indeed, Patsy knew what was coming next...

"Alright!" The alligator growled in vehemence. "Which one of you keeps dropping air biscuits?"

Nina poked her head out and answered quick, "It isn't me!"

"Could it be you, Patsy?"

"Nooo..." said Patsy, rolling her eyes at her friend's predictablity.

"Don't deny it," said Gretchen, "we've heard you fart before!"

Still sitting upright, Patsy crossed her arms and snapped back with, "And since when have I ever denied it? For all we know, it could have been you!"

"Fine, fine. I'll prove my innocence." There was muffled crackling noise, followed by insane laughter on Gretchen's part. She then poked her nose beneath the covers and sniffed loudly. "Aw yeah. See how different that smells?"

"Ugh! Gretchen!" Nina groaned, burying her face into her pillow. "Now you've completely destroyed the oxygen!"

Soon the three were engaged in quiet persiflage, which disipated faster than Gretchen's defensive measures, for they had fallen victim to the tugging of tiredness. So when Nina and Gretchen concealed themselves again, Patsy settled herself into a comfortable position and shut her eyes, and the odor and the chill aggrandized forthwith. Although the day had left Patsy quite exhausted, it became a struggle for her to fall asleep, as the frozen air nipped at her body until she ached; the mysterious rancidity twisted her innards, bringing to life a forlorn case of nausea. All the while those deathly thoughts that swam in her mind became gargantuan in weight, and impossible to expunge. Such a nightmare it was, and so reminscent. She couldn't imagine what her fellow Scouts were feeling at this very moment; if they were in worse shape, or if they were affected at all by similar thoughts. They never once discussed that previous night. Whether it was out of fear or embarressment, she did not know, but no matter the result of the now, the past still needed to be addressed. And so she would question -- in the morning.

Patsy threw herself to the side with a groan, and immediately stilled herself after hearing a faint thumping noise. At first Patsy believed she was imagining things, but when she heard again just seconds later, she knew that it was not her imagination at work. Her heavy eyes wandered over to her cabinmates' shrouded beds, considering that it might have been Gretchen, making the best of a sleepless night with a frightful little prank. It would not be the first time Gretchen _attempted_ to scare the proclaimed 'scare master'. Yet Gretchen's form kept perfectly still, as did Nina's.

Without warning, a high-pitched screech pierced Patsy's sensative ears, and soon she and her cabinmates were up out of bed, panting and shivering and jerking their heads every which way. The screech grew louder as something was repeatedly slammed against the exterior wall. It sounded so unnatural and painful that it left Patsy watery-eyed and choked with anguish -- and when she tried to speak, all that came out was a pathetic whimper. "W-what... is that n-noise? !"

"It's a couple of raccoons getting in a f-fight!" Nina assured her with an evident quiver. "It's happened at my house before. Trust me..."

It did not matter if it was raccoons quarreling, or something else entirely; the screaming and slamming fleeted in seconds. With the night as hushed as it once was, Nina climbed onto her bed and gazed out the western window, trying to spot the source and prove to Patsy that she needed not to fear. Though Gretchen as well wished to set things right by taking to the other window, it was clear from their disappointed tones that the source was invisible to their eyes. Thus, they comforted Patsy with now empty assurance while hiding away, leaving her with company and lonliness all the same.

Patsy released a fatigued sigh and wrapped her arms around her pillow, trying to concentrate on more cheerful times, and hoping that she would drift off. There were many good memories to dwell upon; the first Miss Fru Fru pangent (when they were inane enough to believe it would grant them the ability to fly), and when Miss Doe was engaged to the abominable Mayor of Prickly Pines, Pothole McPucker.

No, now that she thought about it, these memories were far too depressing, as there was glee contained within the past that the present was devoid of. Glee that she missed dearly. But there was a memory or two, or three, of an individual she watched from afar, or mingled with when she had the opportunity. That person, known to all the Squirrels as an unhealthy obsession of young Miss Smiles, was Lazlo, the lighthearted Spider Monkey across the lake.

Before she could relive the fondest of those memories, or conceive events that would lead to their union, something most peculiar happened. Patsy heard a child-like voice whisper in her ear, _"WK? NJ?" _Her breathing then broke and quickened, and in an act of impulse she glued her eyes upon the dark window, watching as a vast pale shape emerged in slow motion. It leered back at her with three green lumps, protruding without pattern and topped by (from what she could make out) very small eyes, which were of a dim red hue. Below the three eyes was a gaping black hole with blood splattered all around it, and it was lined with many rows of jagged saw-like teeth. As slowly as it might have appeared, it glided away like the wind had caught it, the moment Patsy had shrieked.

Nina and Gretchen leapt from their beds once again, this time pulling out their glowsticks. Despite their hands wavering so, they directed the neon green sticks to the newest source of commotion, who was overcome with trepidation. "Oh... oh god!" the mongoose managed to cry. "Something was looking at me through the window!"

"Patsy, you were probably just dreaming..." Nina whispered, showing no signs of being irked. The same could not be said about Gretchen, who tapped her foot softly on the cold floor.

"I was _not_ dreaming, Nina! I was wide awake!" exclaimed Patsy, whimpering once a series of prolonged, severe-sounding wheezes began haunting her. Her longtime friends seemed to take no notice of the sounds, and a fiery sensation danced upon her cheeks as a result. "Oh god... I can hear it... breathing!" Suddenly, Patsy threw herself out of her bed; the blankets and sheets spilling onto the floor as she darted for the door, panting in-between the inaudible things she murmured. There was a loud creak when the door was ripped open, and before Nina or Gretchen could blink, Patsy had left them.

Nina snatched up her glasses, which were lying on the desk behind her bed. Quickly she placed them upon her face, ran to the doorway, and cried to the shadowy figure that was Patsy (already well past the cabins), "Patsy, where are you going? !"

Even at a distance her response dripped with panic, "Somewhere safer than here!"

Patsy never turned to face her cabinmates, to see if they had closed the door, or if they were even running after her. She plowed through the thick, frigid air, which ignored her cotton facade and fiercely caressed all underneath. It was from the touch of coldness that she realized what danger she had put herself in. It was not idiocy -- not in the least bit. Her departure was an act of her subconscious, which would also be the judge of her destination. So she kept on going, knowing by now she had passed the Food Terrace, for she saw that she was nearing the flag pole, only discernible by the pink cloth that stirred barely. As Patsy grew closer to what she could see, the grass below 

occassionally transformed into hard soil and sharp pebble, providing a rather painful experience for one just wearing fuzzy white socks. Then an abrupt, blinding light banished the dark sea around her, and at once she grinded to a halt. Patsy held up both hands and squinted her eyes; her heart giving a small leap when she noticed a familiar, unshaven face looking down upon her.

"Miss Smiles?" Scout Master Trewavas pointed his flashlight away from Patsy's face and gingerly descended the small stairway, that loathsome nightgown of his shuddering as he did. "What in the blazing fuck are you doing out here?"

"I... heard a screaming noise..." Patsy said, looking down at her once decent socks, now covered with bright green and brown stains. "And then... a few moments later... I saw this creepy... _thing_ appear in front of the window..." She clenched her teeth, and felt her cheeks burn again. She was afraid that he, like the others she tried confiding in, would not apprehend her. But the tone of his response sounded inquisitive -- the opposite of what she was expecting.

"Truly? What else happened?"

Patsy's ears rose out of surprise. Still, however curious the man seemed, the anthropomorph could not take her attention away from her socks, now buried deep in the dark grass due to her constant, anxious shifting. "It disappeared after I had screamed." she added quickly, "I'm not a girly-girl or anything like that--"

"I don't doubt your tomboyishness." Roine said. "If I saw what you saw, I'm sure I would've voiced my fear in the exact same way. Gender plays no part in fear, you must remember."

"I know." Patsy said, finally mustering up the strength to make eye-contact with her Scout Master, who looked as he did at all times; unexciting and somewhat shammed. "But I knew I wasn't dreaming, because I heard it breathing afterwards. Nina and Gretchen didn't believe me though. I can't believe they were deaf to it..."

Roine shot her a harsh look. "You need not tell me the rest, Miss Smiles. Your fear drove you out of your cabin and led you here, even though your cabin is the safest place to be right now. Do you honestly know how much danger you put yourself in after common sense escaped you? Come now, if you did witness something as disturbing as you have described to me, and there just so happens to be a macabre being in the proximity, why on earth would you depart from a sound, wooden abode when the source is _outside?"_

"Because I was _afraid_ of being in that cabin! I came here because I thought you could protect me!"

"Inconceivable!" Roine shouted, tossing his arms in the air and nearly losing grip of his flashlight. "What makes me different from Miss Lake or Miss Neckerly?"

"You're the Scout Master! "You're an adult!" Patsy explained calmly. She had to be commended; by now she would have unleashed a verbal maelstrom, innate to all females, upon one who was oblivious to the obvious. Yet she had imprisoned this desire, as she thought highly of Roine. Sure, he was not the most masculine of individuals, and he was prone to almost schizophrenic behavioral changes, and he was hairy. But he was respectful to the tabooed, and he enlightened the Squirrels of things they never could have imagined -- not with the outlets as they were. Furthermore, he possessed a willingness to listen to even the oddest of tales without so much as a sneer. That is not to say that he believed Patsy (on the contrary, Roine was not entirely convinced), but at least he was thoughtful about it.

"And you're two years from becoming one yourself." stated Roine. "You do not require my security."

"Yes I do..." Patsy uttered while cradling herself, shivering as the icy needles of the air had begun to vex her again.

"...It seems I cannot win this. I admit defeat." he said with a long sigh. "I'll let you stay for the night, Miss Smiles. Keep in mind though; I will _not_, under any circumstances, give up my bed. And I do not have any alternative places for you to do your slumbering, so it's either with me, or out here." And with that, he switched off his flashlight and began climbing the stairs, signaling for her to follow with a slight wave in the dark.

Patsy's face lit up in an instant. "That's okay with me!" She then scurried off after him, still holding onto her aching chest. With a grunt and a monstrous fart she tripped on the last step and fell against the porch, laughing away as she picked herself up. "Whoops! I think that one left a mark!" Roine replied to this with a plain "Indeed".

"Oh, um, Roine?" Patsy asked suddenly, her tone sounding far more serious. "What were _you_ doing out here?"

Roine stopped in the midst of the doorway and lowered his head. "Heard some raccoons fighting. I would've have been out here sooner, but I couldn't find the fucking flashlight." he closed his eyes and emitted a soft titter. "No, I'm joshing you. Really, it just took me a while to rouse enough strength to step outside. For you see, I was fearful myself. I'm aware that it was just an ordinary occurance -- but simultaneously, I can't help but feel that the ordinary will someday turn out to be the unknown. And the unknown can be the worst nightmare imaginable.

"We best not linger in the night. The last thing we need is for one of us to come down sick..."

The Scout Master allowed Patsy to step inside first before entering himself, closing the door gently when he did. Patsy moved along in a slow stride, noting that the interior of this place had not been remodeled in the least bit. Even the dark she could tell -- Roine had left everything exactly the way it was.

But there were many things he had brought from his previous 'life', if you will; including a bag filled with cigars and intoxicant, a sizable collection of odd videos and three even odder books, which he had found in the University Of Tainted Knowledge years ago. How he found himself in that location was a mystery to even him. Regardless, something drove him there, and so he went along for the ride. He was not sure either what use these ancient books would be, but still he held onto them like a stubborn ass, believing perhaps a time would come when they would prove useful. For the exception of the videos, lying scattered in various locations (Patsy had already trodden on a couple), he kept his belongings in Jane's old wardrobe, so they were unknown to all -- the way he preferred it.

As Patsy passed the kitchen, a lingering homelike smell tantalized her senses, which brought back memories of her and father cooking together, back before she was sent to camp. She wondered for a moment if Roine had an iota of culinary skill -- but on second thought, he probably just warmed up some cheap frozen dinner, fearing that the stove would set him ablaze. Or the entire house. Though she found the mere thought delightful, she did well to keep trival or scathing questions to herself. After all, he _was_ doing her a favor.

Patsy was surprised when she had abruptly entered the Scout Master's bedroom -- she did not expect the hallway leading there to be so frank. She peered down at the heart-shaped bed (softly brightened by the moonlight shining through the window), taking notice of the impression on the left side of the mattress, and the blood red covers spread out upon the floor, as if they were torn from place. Did Roine happen to feel the same fear as she? Fall victim to the same weights and rancidity? There was no chance for an inner monologue -- right when Roine threw the covers back onto the bed, and the flashlight to the floor, he had resumed his original position. Patsy trudged to the opposite side and slid her body underneath the dense, warming bedspread, and indulged herself in it. But the comfort it would provide would not remedy this wakefulness. She realized this when a short while had passed 

on, when she hopelessly began tossing herself every which way; still bathed in an invisible pool of stinging cold. Patsy knew that, unless she chose to take drastic measures, she would not overcome the trials of this night...

So Patsy spun herself around, gazing at Roine's back for a few moments before she whispered, "Roine?" From the sound of his acknowledgment (a simple "Yes?"), it didn't seem as though he was irked, which gladdened her. Then Patsy edged closer, telling him, "I'm... freezing my butt off. Could you... could you hold me?"

Roine choked. For once he had a difficult time in crafting an answer. He wished to stay lenient toward the young mongoose, but how could he if the facts were harsh? Did she not understand how wrong it would be, for a twenty-eight year old to embrace a female who had not yet reached sexual maturity? He was just her Scout Master -- not her parent! Still, nobody would ever know if he did...

Incredulous! An act like this would morph the platonic into greater things. More painful things. He could not make the same mistake again. Not as he was, at least. But whatever control he had somehow crumbled, as Patsy was soon pulled up against him. His gawky arms were secured tightly around her sides, and his hands were placed upon her lovely hips. When Roine realized what he had just done, he began to shudder and grind his teeth.

The mongoose wrapped her own arms around the man's neck and pressed her face against his chest, tuning in to the swift thumping of his heart, and breathing in his unique scent. She could tell that he was panicking -- though the reason this time elluded her, since they were nowhere near the Lake. Was it her being female that made him like this?

Patsy exhaled loudly. "Roine, what time is it?"

"Eight minutes past one." Roine said, desperate in his attempts to calm himself. "If you're having trouble sleeping, you could always talk to me. That's a sure-fire way of getting tired..."

"No need to put yourself down like that." she raised her head and gave him a smile. Not one that was induced to follow along with his dry humor, but a caring one. "I've always wondered, Roine, and I hope you don't mind me asking; what was the scariest thing you've ever seen?"

"Well, this life has shown my eyes many terrible things, but possibly the worst would be an infant who had Harlequin Ichthyosis." Roine could tell from her pause that she was perplexed, so he elaborated, "It's a disease, which gives its victims hard skin engraved with large diamond-shaped scales. The eyes are turned inside out and filled with blood; the nose and ears are simply pits; the hands and feet are deformed via Hypoplasia. No image you concieve in your mind can match the real sight of a Harlequin baby, let me tell you...

"Anyway, I happened to find him when I was out with an old friend of mine. The infant was obviously abandoned. We never found out his identity, or even a single lead on where his parents had gone to, or who they themselves were. I guess it wouldn't have mattered if we did." Roine pried his eyes off of Patsy and applied them to the ceiling, producing a gloomy quiver afterwards. "He died exactly two hours later. The cause escapes me at the moment, as this occured back when I was four years younger, but I'm pretty sure it was from dehydration. Oh, how those low noises he made continue to cling...

He found himself looking at the furre again, whose face suggested a subtle state of repulsion. "Care if I direct to you the same question?"

Patsy retrieved a hand and began nibbling on her short fingernails. Not from being caught off guard, as she knew for certain _who_ she would use for an answer. Yet that answer, which would bring about something best left forgotten -- and more importantly, an unsaid retort from Roine, left her hesitant. "Well," proceeded Patsy, "besides that thing I told you about earlier, the scariest event of my life 

would have to be when agents from Interpol came to investigate the scene. Their leader did something weird to me. He-- _it_ vaporized my surroundings and... flew. Right in front of me. While I was running away, this freaked-out robotic voice started talking to me, and I could've sworn I heard gunfire in the background. As silly as it sounds, I think it was its voice. I think it had looked into my past, or my future, or something. Its name was..." She suddenly zipped her lip and buried her face into Trewavas' nightgown, straining her will to force the name out. "...Uriah Heep!"

"Uriah Heep?" Roine blinked. "So the rumors are true."

Patsy peeked up and opened one eye, now appearing a bit concerned. "Rumors?"

"That he still walks the Earth."

"Of course he still walks the Earth, silly." she replied with a playful scoff. "He wouldn't have come to investigate if he were dead."

He raised both of his eyebrows and vehemently explained, "No, no, no. You don't understand. He's _supposed_ to be dead."

There was no struggle to comprehend, nor any counterargument -- she had known from the start that Uriah Heep was an anomoly. Even so, she still had to ask, "How do you know that?"

"I've done my reading." Roine said while tapping his fingers against her hips. "Mind you, his past is a longwinded tale and I am too jaded to tell it at the moment. Perhaps in the morning I will enlighten the lot of you..."

Thereafter, not another word was spoken. Patsy supposed that Roine extinguished what little energy he had from their discussion, and as silence was allowed to reign over them, she fully embraced his neck once more, feeling his body tense up for a split second before a calm fell over it. During this silence, Patsy drifted off not yet into slumber, but into a state of meandering contemplation. Doctor Uriah Heep, it who injected fear and wonder; it who was second-in-command of an worldwide establishment, was posthumous and possibly within historical literature? Just how old was this beast, and just how did it operate? Ever the perplexer as well was Scout Master Trewavas. Truly, there was more to him than he was letting on. Too many things he knew and shared, yet Patsy felt that he shared too little -- especially concerning his past. All had a reason for hiding a part of themselves, of course, whether it was out of shame, misunderstanding or understanding a great deal, but it irritated her so! Then she remembered...

"Roine," Patsy whispered, awaiting Roine's answer (which was a replica of the previous "Yes?") before speaking again, "I wanted to apologize for all those things I said yesterday. You know, about you needing to shave and being a pansy. It was really uncalled for. It's just I get so mad sometimes! And after everything you've done for me -- for everyone, well--"

"It served me right," he interrupted. "because you _were_ right. I need to shave. And I'm a big pansy who wallows in boringness." The anthropomorph winced when he recapitulated her. "But I assure you that things can and will change. Your apology is accepted, Miss Smiles."

The corners of Patsy's mouth bended upward, as high as they could go. Many times she set aside her apology due to the busyness of activities, it seemed inevitable that she would have forgotten it entirely. But now that it was out, she felt freed; like a weight lodged in the back of her mind had been lifted from place. In fact, all of those invincible obstacles seemed to vanish as the night progressed, and soon Patsy had entered a state of tranquillity, complete with random, fuzzed hallucinations, swirling without sense or direction. She became deaf to the sound of their breathing and snoring, and her body became stiller and number until finally it suspended itself, once her consciousness had departed. But her undisturbed sleep would be a short-lived one, as time went from a glacial crawl to 

something quite the opposite, bringing morning forth on the swiftest of wings. Thus did the yellow sun rise with those ever-noisy avians, who took no notice of the shadow that remained...

The mongoose yawned and stretched out her lovely form, rubbing her still heavy eyes before peeling them open. She then shielded her face, groaning as a flash of white light blinded her momentarily. It couldn't have been morning -- it felt as though she had gone to sleep minutes ago! But it was very much morning, and the realization made her sigh in disappointment. So Patsy buried the back of her head in one of the featherlight pillows, staring to the ceiling and giving her dilated eyes a chance to readjust, when suddenly she erected herself. It just now occured to her; she did not awaken in the same position she had assumed, and Roine was nowhere to be seen...

She rubbed her eyes again, calling out his name in sort of a lethargic murmur. However, there was no answer heard. She looked over to the left where the bathroom was located, and noticed that the door was closed shut, with a faint trace of mist and a golden light creeping out from the bottom. Clarity came upon a fuller awakening, and once indistinct noises became a repetitive stream of splattering water and the hissing of a showerhead. Just as she began to listen more closely, the sounds died away in an instant, and were replaced with numerous others.

After the passing of a good moment or two, when the pattering of naked feet had ceased (along with the rustle of clothing being applied), Roine emerged from the bathroom in his usual sepia-colored attire, somehow looking different than he did yesterday. She could not put her finger on it -- that is, until he walked past her. She scooted nearer in the direction of the wardrobe once Roine had bent over and opened it, watching as he pulled out a severely weathered book from a black duffel bag. Patsy withheld a giggle as he closed up the wardrobe again, at last exclaiming, "Hey, you don't look as hairy as before!"

Roine rose, turned around and flashed her a pleased grin. "Right you are. Decided to get rid of those unnecessary patches. And I trimmed down the goatee a bit, though I'm not getting rid of it entirely."

Her eyes wandered downward, onto the ancient book Roine held in his hands. "What's that?"

"Relevant material." he said bluntly. "Come, we should return you to your cabin before the others awaken. Otherwise, they'll all be asking to bed with me..."

But before they took their leave, Roine fixed his guest a fancy breakfast; three crepes adorned with lemon cream and a dark strawberry sauce. They did not last for long due to Patsy's voracious hunger, and when she asked him afterwards of his learning to cook such meals, Roine replied with one of many automated replies concerning the matter, "Ah, an old... acquiantance taught me." Of course, anyone with half a brain would know there was more to it, but Patsy decided against prying -- and very soon they were outside, where the weather was in confusion and the ground was coated with a light frost, already in the process of melting away. Their pace was not hurried, but rather relaxed, as it would still be some time before Mucus would awaken herself. By the time they reached the cabin, Patsy's socks were tarnished again with mud, providing a little laughter between the two. Then Roine tapped at the door. It took hardly a second before he was answered by Gretchen, who looked a great deal startled.

"Good morning to you, Gretchen." he said while tipping his fedora.

"Um!" Gretchen gritted her teeth, giving Roine the most ridiculous of smiles. "Morning, Scout Master..."

Roine hadn't a chance to speak again, because Patsy (who wandered off towards the cabin's rear, undetected) had released a scream blatant enough to drown out the birds' canorous songs, and frighten them away from their sylvan homes. What came next was like a chaotic blur; all of the 

Squirrels zipped out of their abodes in an instantaneous motion, gasping and covering their mouths once they too beheld it -- something they hoped never to see again. Even Mucus was quick to appear. Absent was her red wig, but she was thankfully wearing a lavender nightgown, and carrying in her arms an M1014 Combat Shotgun, which was her favorite memento from her days in the service. Unlike the reaction of the younger generation, hers was but a simple and unsurprised huffing sound.

Roine took a deep breath. He did not wish to see it, this thing that caused so much distress, yet he knew that he had to. So he crept up behind Susie and Margaret, both of whom were sobbing softly, and forced his eyes to the mess on the ground. It _appeared _to be a raccoon, however, only the upper half remained somewhat intact -- the other end was a shredded heap of muscle, fur and innards; behind it the grass and cabin wall were wet with blood. The raccoon's right eye was swollen and red, as though it was close from bursting out, and still in death it bore an expression of utter horror. Repulsed, Roine sealed shut his eyes and turned away with a groan, the acids within him churning and rising. He then managed to look over at Patsy, who shuddered and whimpered uncontrollably. He knew that this carcass was affecting her the most, for she, unlike all the others, had _seen_ the murderer...

"Everyone," he said in a low voice. "please return to your cabins. Stay there until further notice. I mean it."

The ten acquiesced and dispersed. Their heads were lowered, and their appetites were extinguished as they took with them the mute and painful reminder of death. Roine could only sigh at this, and when they had all returned to their rightful places, he wandered off to the Food Terrace, with Mucus following close behind. Thereafter his climbing of the red stairway, Roine positioned himself on one of the outside tables and slid the book under his left arm. When he finally spoke again, it was not of the current matter, but something of the past. Something that was worrying him more so...

"Ruby-- erm!" Roine flinched at the erroneous application and swiftly corrected himself, _"Rubella._ I must ask; how did Interpol ever find out about Jane's death?"

"Can't answer that one." she replied with a shrug. "They just called me on the cellular phone and..." Mucus trailed off, soon realizing that her answer did not correspond with that occurance, and at once her mouth fell.

"...But those devices do not work, do they?" Roine said, raising an eyebrow. "I also heard ex-Grand Master Heep headed the investigation. Would it surprise you if I said that he is not of this world?"

"I beg yer pardon? Ex-Grand Master?"

"Yes, of the Shadow Society; a fanatical cult dedicated to the genocide of anthropomorphs and abominations, founded exactly four-hundred and ten years ago. Basically, it was the progenitor of the National Socialist German Workers' Party. Now if these Uriah Heeps are one in the same, then that means something is very much wrong, seeing as no human has ever lived for _that _long..."

"And where did ya find out about this Shadow cult, Mister Trewavas?"

"In this little rarity here." Roine said, holding up that weathered book of his. "It's called 'The History Of The Shadow Society', by Sir Ahu Eephir. I would give it a read, if I were you." There was a short pause when he was struck with an odd feeling of familiarity. Then a brilliant look appeared on his face. "Wait a moment. Ahu Eephir. Ahu Eephir... yes!" Roine jumped to his feet, proclaiming, "I knew that name sounded familiar!"

Dumbfounded, Mucus unhanded the barrel of her gun and scratched her neck. "Ya'll losing me here..."

"He wrote something else of interest." he clarified. "A rather gruesome short story, which Miss Smiles read to us two nights ago."

"Was it in that 'Collection Of Horrific Tales' book?"

He gave her a firm nod. "Indeed it was."

"Ya positive? Cause I've gone through that book many times, and I don't remember that being in there." She watched as he settled down on the table again, his brilliance now morphing into absolute grimness. "...Somethin' the matter?"

"It just hit me. The name Ahu Eephir... it is an anagram."

"An anagram? Of...?"

In a laggard movement he faced her. Though eye-contact was made, it seemed like he was staring right through her, into space.

"Uriah Heep."


End file.
